y 


T  H  E    L  I  F  E 


r 


CHEVALIER    BAYARD 


an»  peur  et  sans  reprocfje." 


BY  W.  GILMORE   SIMMS. 


And  now,  1  dare  to  say,  Sir  Lancelot,  there  as  thou  lyest,  thou  were  never  matched  of  none  earthly 
knights'  hands.  And  thou  were  the  curteist  knight  that  ever  bare  shield.  And  thou  were  the  truest 
friend  to  thy  lorer  that  ever  bestrode  horse;  and  thou  were  the  truest  lover,  of  a  sinful  man,  that  ever 
loved  woman.  And  thou  were  the  kindest  man  that  ever  stroke  with  sword.  And  thou  were  the  good- 
liest person  that  ever  came  among  prece  (press)  of  knights.  And  thou  were  the  meekest  man,  and  the 
gentlest,  that  ever  ate  in  hall  among  ladies.  And  thou  were  the  sternest  knight  to  thy  mortal  foe  that 
ever  put  spear  in  rest. — Morte  Arthur,   ■ 


NEW    YORK: 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

82    CLIFF    STREET. 

184  7. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  forty-seven,  by 

Harper  6c  Brothers, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


-DGS</ 


TO 

JOHN  IZARD  xMIDDLETON,  ESQ., 

OF    SOUTH    CAROLIxXA. 

I  DO  not  suppose,  my  dear  Middleton,  that  any  thing 
contained  in  these  pages  will  be  new  to  you,  but  I 
persuade  myself  that  you  will  find  pleasure  in  being 
reminded  of  a  history  which,  I  am  very  sure,  must  appeal 
to  your  sympathies  in  as  great  degree  as  to  those  of 
any  other  living  man.  You  will  not  be  displeased,  at 
least,  that,  in  pursuing  the  career  of  so  perfect  a  char- 
acter as  that  of  the  Chevalier,  distinguished  par  excellence 
as  without  reproach,  I  should,  at  the  same  time,  have 
naturally   thought  of  yours. 

Very  faithfully, 

THE    AUTHOR. 


ivi^assBSS 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  works  followed  and  consulted  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  memoir  are  these: 

I.  "  Les  gestesense  mble  la  vie  du  preulx  Chevalier  Bay- 
ard, avec  sa  genealogie  ;  comparaisons  aulx  aiiciens 
preulx  chevaliers;  gentilx,  Israelitiques  et  Chretiens. 
En  semble  oraisons ;  lamentations,  du  dit  Chevalier 
Bayard,  contenant  plusiers  victoryes  des  Roys  de 
France,  Charles  VIII.,  Loys  XII.,  et  Francoys  pre- 
mier de  ce  nom.  By  Symphorien  Champier,  Lyons, 
1525."  For  the  use  of  this  rare  and  quaint  old 
volume,  I  am  indebted  to  the  unique  and  admirable 
hbrary  of  Mr.  A.  A.  Smets,  of  Savannah,  Geo. 

II.  La  tres-joyeuse  and  plaisante  histoire,  composee  par 
le  Loyal  Serviteur,  des  faits,  gestes  et  prouesses  du 
Bon  Chevalier,  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche. ...  In  the 
English  translation  by  Coleridge's  daughter. 

III.  Histoire  de  Pierre  Terrail,  dit  le  Chevalier  Bayard, 
sans  peur  et  sans  reproche.  Par  Jean  Cohen. 
Paris,  1822. 

The  preceding  works  form  the  basis  of  mine.  But 
I  have  consulted  many  others,  which  relate  to  con- 
temporaneous events,  as  well  as  to  those  in  the  life  of 
Bayard.  Among  these  are  Philip  des  Comines,  Mon- 
strelet,  St.  Palaye's  Ancient  Chivalry,  Robert  Macque- 
reau,  Gaspard  de  Saulx-Tavannes,  Roscoe's  Leo  X., 
Bacon's  Francis  I.,  Quintana's  Gonzalvo  de  Cordova, 
Hume's  England,  Roberts'  Henry  VIII.,  Sismondi's 
and  other  Histories  of  France. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Introduction  —  His  Birth  and  Family  —  Choice  of  Arms  as  a  Profes- 
sion          Page     1 

CHAPTER  n. 

Bayard  enters  the  Service  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy— Is  distinguished  for  his 
Riding — Makes  the  Friendship  of  his  Comrades — Is  presented  to  the  King 
of  France  and  taken  into  his  Service    .        ,        .        .  .        .11 

CHAPTER  HI. 

The  Court  returns  to  Lyons  —  Tournament  appointed  —  How  Bayard 
raises  Supplies  —  His  Passage-of-Arms  with  the  Knight  Claude  de  Vau- 
dray ,        .        .    21 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Bayard  joins  the  Garrison  in  Picardy  —  His  handsome  Reception  —  An- 
nounces a  Tournament — Two  days'  Passages-at-Arms — His  Successes, 
and  remarkable  Popularity    ....,..,.    30 

CHAPTER  V. 

Invasion  of  Italy  by  Charles  VIII.  —  Conquest  of  Naples  —  Retreat  from 
Italy— Bayard  distinguishes  himself  at  the  Battle  of  Fornovo     .        .    46 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Louis  XII.  invades  and  conquers  the  Milanese — Bayard's  Duel  with  Si- 
monetta,  a  Knight  of  Milan  —  He  visits  the  Duchess  of  Savoy  —  Gives  a 
Tournament  at  Carignan,  and  is  declared  the  Conqueror    .        .        .56 

CHAPTER  VII. 

New  Invasion  of  Milan  by  the  French  —  Bayard's  Defeat  of  the  Lombards 
under  Cazache — Rash  Pursuit  and  Captivity  in  Milan — The  Fall  of  Lu- 
dovic  Sforza 69 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

How  Bayard  disposed  of  the  silver  Plate  of  the  People  of  Loghiera  ~  The 
French  and  Spaniards  conquer  Naples — They  quarrel  about  the  Spoil — 
How  Bayard  conquers  and  makes  Captive  of  Don  Alonzo  de  Sotomayer   79 


VIU  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Showing  how  Don  Alonzo  de  Sotomayer,  admitted  to  the  Privileges  of  the 
Castle,  proved  faithless  and  fled  ;  how  he  was  recaptured  and  afterward 
ransomed  ;  how  he  spoke  falsely  of  his  Entertainment ;  and  how  he  fought 
with  Knight  Bayard,  and  was  slain  in  the  Lists 90 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Combat  of  Thirteen  against  Thirteen,  and  the  Success  of  the  Good 
Knight— How  the  Good  Knight  takes  a  Purse  after  the  Fashion  of  Knight- 
hood, and  what  he  does  with  it 103 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Disasters  of  the  French  in  Italy ;  their  Defeat  at  Cerignola — The  Camp 
on  the  Banks  of  the  Garigliano — The  Defence  of  the  Bridge  by  Bayard 
alone  against  two  hundred— His  Pursuit  of  the  Spaniards — His  Capture, 
and  Rescue  by  his  Comrades        ....  ...  1 16 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Defeat  of  the  French  at  Garigliano  —  Cessation  of  the  War  —  Bayard  re- 
turns to  France — Suffers  from  Ague  and  old  Wounds — Hears  of  new  Wars 
in  Italy — Joins  the  Army — Captures  a  Genoese  Fortress — Organizes  the 
French  Infantry — War  with  the  Venetians,  and  Battle  of  Agnadello    129 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Padua  falls  into  Possession  of  the  Venetians — The  Emperor  solicits  Help 
from  Louis  to  recover  it — Bayard  volunteers  with  the  Force  sent — He 
leads  the  Assault  upon  the  Barriers  at  Padua,  and  captures  them      .  143 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Of  the  Bombardment  of  Padua,  the  Defences  of  that  Place,  and  of  the 
Manner  in  which  our  Good  Knight  amused  himself  at  the  Expense  of 
Messire  Lucio  Malvezzo 152 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Showing  the  Adventure  of  Bayard  and  his  Troop  against  the  Captains 
Scanderbeg  and  Contarini — He  makes  them  Prisoners,  and  captures  the 
Castle  of  Bassano— The  Achievement  of  Guy  Guiffray — How  he  captures 
the  Venetian  Standard-bearer,  and  what  followed  thereon  .        .162 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

How  the  Emperor  discovers  that  the  Breach  is  sufficiently  large  for  the 
Assault  —  How  ingeniously  he  seeks  to  convert  the  French  Gendarms 
into  Foot-Soldiers  for  that  Purpose— What  Counsel  Bayard  gives  on  the 
Occasion — And  how,  finally,  the  Breach  was  left  unoccupied    .        .  172 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Bayard  in  Command  of  the  Garrison  at  Verona  —  How  he  issues  forth 
against  Captain  Manfrone  —  The  Ambuscade  of  the  said  Captain,  into 
which  the  Good  Knight  falls— Of  the  Fight  that  followed  thereupon— How 
Bayard  became  a  Prisoner  twice  in  one  Day — Of  his  Escape,  and  how  he 
smote  the  Infantry  of  the  Venetians,  Hip  and  Thigh,  at  Midnight      .  182 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

How  Captain  Manfrone  devises  a  precious  Scheme  by  which  to  circum- 
vent and  capture  our  Good  Knight — How  the  Secret  is  extracted  from 
the  Spy;  and  how  Bayard  plants  a  Snare  for  the  Fowler,  and  what 
ensued  thereon 191 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Showing  the  Rupture  of  the  Alliance  formed  by  the  League  of  Cambray 
— The  Capture  of  Legnano  by  the  French — How  Bayard  goes  to  assist 
the  Duke  of  Ferrara — And  how  nearly  he  came,  not  having  the  Fear  of 
the  Church  in  his  Eyes,  to  capturing  the  Holy  Father  himself  .        .  202 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Of  the  Sortie  of  Sir  Guyon  de  Cantiers  from  Legnano,  and  how  he  perished 
by  the  Treachery  of  a  Spy — How  the  Pope,  having  taken  Mirandola,  lays 
Siege  to  La  Bastia  to  the  great  Disquiet  of  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  and 
how  the  good  Knight  Bayard  plans  a  Method  to  relieve  it  and  to  defeat 
the  Besiegers 214 

CHAPTER  XXL 

The  Pope's  Efforts  against  the  French — The  Agreement  of  Messire  Au- 
gustino  Guerlo  with  the  Duke  of  Ferrara  to  poison  him — Denounced  by 
Bayard — The  taking  of  Bologna  by  the  French,  in  which  Bayard  distin- 
guishes himself^Of  the  Duel  between  Santa  Cruz  and  the  Seiior  Aze- 
vedo,  and  the  Laws  of  the  Combat 227 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Holy  League — The  Swiss — Bayard  defeats  them — The  allies  lay  Siege  to 
Bologna — The  Astrologer  of  Carpi — His  Predictions — The  Adventures 
of  Captain  Caumont  and  his  Passage-at-Arms — Bologna  relieved  by  the 
Duke  de  Nemours 239 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Venetians  capture  Brescia  and  beleaguer  the  Citadel— The  Duke  de 
Nemours  marches  to  its  Relief— Bayard  at  the  Head  of  the  advance  Guard 
encounters  and  defeats  the  Venetian  Army  under  Gian-Paolo  Baglione — 
The  French  make  an  Assault  upon  and  recapture  Brescia  with  terrible 
Slaughter — Bayard  leads  the  Assault,  and  entering  the  Barriers  at  the 
Head  of  his  Men,  is  put  Hors  de  Combat  by  the  Stroke  of  a  Pike        .  251 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Portrait  of  Chevalier  Bayard  .  .  .  Frontispiece. 
Bayard's  first  Specimen  of  Horsemanship  .  .  Page  1 
Bayard  smiting  the  Shield  of  Claude  de  Vaudray  .  21 
Bayard  and  the  Lady  op  Fluxas 56 


Duel  between  Bayard  and  Alonzo  de  Sotomayer 
Bayard    leading    his    Troops    through    a    Morass    at 

Battle  of  Agnadello  .... 

The  Young  Archer  and  the  Venetian  Prisoner 

Bayard  and  the  Spy 

The  Prediction  of  the  Astrologer  of  Carpi 
Bayard  and  his  Hostess  at  Brescia     . 
Funeral  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours 
Bayard  and  the  Lansquenet 
The  Battle  of  Marignan       .... 
Death  of  Bayard 


90 

129 
162 
191 
239 
262 
295 
312 
346 
384 


*"'■"«  ..■.,, 


LIFE   OF  BAYARD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  was  at  a  time  when  chivalry  was  at  its  lowest  condi- 
tion in  Christian  Europe ;  when  the  fine  affectations  of  the 
order,  erring  always  on  the  side  of  generosity  and  virtue — 
its  strained  courtesies,  its  overwrought  delicacies,  its  ex- 
travagant and  reckless  valor — every  thing,  in  short,  of  that 
grace  and  magnanimity  which  had  constituted  its  essential 
spirit  and  made  of  it  a  peculiar  institution — ^had  given  way 
to  less  imposing  and  less  worthy  characteristics ;  when, 
ceasing  to  be  the  distinguishing  boast  of  courtliness  and 
noble  blood,  it  had  yielded  on  every  hand,  in  Spain,  in 
France,  England,  Italy  and  Germany,  to  a  growth  of  the 
grossest  passions,  a  disregard  of  the  point  of  honor  and  ot 

A 


X  FIDELITY    AND    MODESTY. 

those  pledges  of  faith  which  it  had  been  the  great  end  of 
chivalry  to  maintain,  at  every  hazard,  as  the  first  tests  of 
courtesy  and  manhood, — it  w^as  even  at  such  a  time  that 
the  now  decaying  institution  was  destined  to  furaish  to  the 
world  the  happiest  illustration,  in  a  single  gi-eat  example, 
of  its  ancient  pride  and  character,  and  of  those  virtues 
which  had  made  it  fruitful  of  good  to  humanity,  in  spite  of 
many  curious  anomalies.  The  name  of  the  Chevalier  Bay- 
ard has  grown  into  proverbial  identification,  in  modem 
times,  with  all  that  is  pure  and  noble  in  manhood,  and  all 
that  is  great  and  excellent  in  the  soldier.  It  is  not  that  he 
ranks  among  brave  men  as  one  wholly  without  fear  in  bat- 
tle. This  character  would  scarcely  afford  him,  in  a  period 
wholly  given  up  to  war,  and  remarkable  for  its  sanguinary 
conflicts,  any  very  peculiar  distinction.  That  he  had  the 
virtue  of  a  rare  courage,  in  its  utmost  perfection,  is  undeni- 
able ;  but  the  equally  distinguishing  and  more  beautiful 
qualities  of  his  heart,  accord  him  an  eminence  among  his 
contemporaries  which  none  has  ever  presumed  to  question. 
He  was  not  only  the  Chevalier  sans  peur,  but  sans  reproche 
also  ;  so  equally  good  and  brave  that  his  character  furnish- 
es the  most  admirable  model  to  the  generous  ambition  of 
the  young  that  we  find  in  all  the  pages  of  history.  His 
valor  he  shared,  in  a  great  measure,  with  his  associates ;  but 
his  truth  and  fidelity  were  singularly  his  own.  His  period 
was  one  distinguished  for  its  small  possession  of  faith  and 
virtue.  It  was  a  time  exemplary  for  its  treacheries,  par- 
ticularly among  the  great.  To  deceive  and  to  betray,  were 
practices  too  common  among  nobles  and  princes,  to  make 
these  offences  against  virtue  any  longer  odious  in  the  sight 
of  men  ;  and  the  perfidy  which  was  taught  to  Italy,  not  less 
by  her  seeming  necessities  than  by  the  subtle  studies  of  her 
statesmen,  had  become  wide-spread  lessons  for  the  misdi- 
rection of  the  whole  civilized  world.  Breathing  this  very 
atmospheie  for  a  considerable  period  of  his  life,  the  naturei 
of  Bayard  imbibed  none  of  its  unwholesome  influences. 


GRACE    AND    GENEKOSITY.  3 

He  still  kept  the  whiteness  of  his  soul  free  from  spot,  in 
spite  of  the  contagion  in  which  he  lived.  His  fidelity  and 
truth  soon  gi'ew  to  be  as  remarkable  as  his  valor,  and  his 
talents  for  war  were  no  less  conspicuous  than  these.  Yet 
these  talents  never  urged  him  to  any  of  that  undue  self-es- 
teem which  makes  the  highly  endowed  person  recoil  from 
the  command  of  others.  His  possessions  were  tempered 
by  a  wonderful  modesty,  which  taught  him  the  propriety 
of  submission  to  his  superiors.  Obedience,  indeed,  as  the 
first  duty  of  the  soldier,  was  a  lesson  which  he  had  happily 
learned  when  alone  it  can  be  properly  acquired — in  the  days 
of  his  youth.  This  lesson  gave  stability  to  the  native  vir- 
tues of  his  character,  and  forms  one  of  the  distinguishing 
traits  in  his  high  reputation.  Never  was  hero  more  unself- 
ish. His  generosity  and  disinterestedness,  struggling  stead- 
ily against  his  successful  valor,  left  him  always  poor  while 
in  the  constant  acquisition  of  money.  He  gave  as  rapidly 
as  he  gained,  and,  in  conferring  favors  upon  his  friends  and 
followers,  he  frequently  denied  himself  the  means  for  en- 
countering his  own  necessities.  True  to  his  word,  his  en- 
emies, equally  with  his  firiends,  yielded  every  where  the  most 
ready  faith  to  all  his  assurances.  He  was  scarcely  less  lib- 
eral to  the  one  than  the  other.  His  captive,  whom  he  al- 
ways treated  with  kindness  and  courtesy,  went  forth  fre- 
quently without  ransom,  while  his  acquisitions  were  made 
the  means  for  sei-ving  his  companions,  and  for  exhibitions 
of  chivalrous  pageants,  which  drew  together  all  young  and 
ambitious  cavaliers,  emulous  of  gallant  trophies  to  be  distrib- 
uted by  the  hands  of  beauty.  And,  in  all  these  relations, 
nothing  could  exceed  the  sweetness  and  nobleness  of  man- 
ner for  which  Bayard  was  remarkable.  His  successes,  his 
high  fame,  never  made  him  regardless  of  the  claims  of  others. 
He  never  haughtily  presumed  upon  his  superiority  nor 
abused  its  advantages,  but,  defemng  gently  to  the  inferior, 
he  made  his  way  to  all  hearts,  and,  with  the  virtues  of  a 
Scipio  blended  the  gi"aces  of  an  Alcibiades.     Admirable  in 


4  BAYARDS    MAXIMS    AND    VIRTUES. 

council,  his  opinions  won  their  way  to  the  understandings 
of  his  hearers  by  tlieir  native  justness,  urged  without  pre- 
sumption, and  enforced  by  that  modest  deference  with 
which  he  first  hstened  to  the  thoughts  of  others.  Always 
solicitous  of  gallant  undertakings,  he  betrayed  no  disquiet 
if  their  results  enured  to  the  renown  of  rivals.  His  moral 
sense  was  singularly  sound  and  reflective.  He  often  said, 
"  The  best  lordship  is  the  communion  with  virtuous  per- 
sons ;  the  gi-eatest  evil  to  a  lord  is  in  the  counsels  of  igno- 
rant and  vicious  men,  as  there  is  nothing  more  dangerous 
than  audacity  when  unsustained  by  wisdom."  A  gentle- 
man once  asked  him,  "  What  goods  a  noble  man  should 
leave  to  his  children  ]"  "  Those,"  heanswered,  "  which 
fear  neither  rain  nor  stonn.  nor  human  injustice,  nor  all  the 
power  of  man — wisdojm  and  virtue."  His  maxims  were 
illustrated  by  his  life.  His  respect  and  admiration  for  the 
sex  prompted  him  to  the  frequent  tournament.  The  lady 
whose  colors  he  wore  might  safely  repose  as  well  upon  his 
loyalty  as  his  valor  and  skill.  Modesty  and  innocence  never 
looked  to  him  in  vain.  It  will  be  our  province,  in  the  course 
of  this  history,  to  give  one  curious  example  of  his  generos- 
ity in  this  respect.  His  sympathies  were  always  given  to 
the  good ;  his  succor  gladly  sustained  the  weak ;  his  boun- 
ty helped  the  indigent.  He  alleviated,  where  he  could, 
the  miseries  of  war,  over  which  he  mourned  with  earnest 
commiseration.  To  complete  the  beauties  of  his  charac- 
ter, his  piety  was  deep  and  unaffected.  He  enjoyed,  with- 
out any  of  the  enfeebling  superstitions  of  his  age,  a  pro- 
found sense  of  his  obligations  to  the  Deity,  and  an  abiding 
confidence  in  the  saving  mercies  of  Jesus  Christ.  His 
moraing  began,  and  his  evening  closed,  with  prayer.  He 
prepared  himself  for  battle  by  becoming  devotions,  recom- 
mending his  soul  to  God,  and  invoking  the  pardon  of  his 
sins.  His  life,  indeed,  furnishes  an  admirable  example  to 
the  soldier,  of  a  career  in  which  the  most  heroic  valor  may 
be  blended  with  the  most  gentle  virtues,  with  mildness  of 


HIS    PA-RENTAGE  5 

temper,  sweetness  of  demeanor,  generosity  without  display, 
and  the  most  humble  submission  to  human  and  Divine  au- 
thority. True  to  his  God,  his  country,  and  his  duty,  he 
found  it  no  ways  arduous  to  share  in  the  vicissitudes  of  war 
and  the  incongruous  associations  of  the  camp,  without 
yielding  to  the  brutalities  of  the  one,  or  partaking  of  the  ex- 
cesses of  the  other.  As  a  partisan  warrior,  he  was,  per- 
haps, one  of  the  greatest  captains  that  France  has  ever  pro- 
duced— eager  and  watchful,  observant  every  where,  always 
secure  against  surprise  himself,  and  always  prompt  to  seize 
upon  the  error  of  his  enemy.  Considered  in  every  point 
of  view,  we  are  constrained  to  affirm  the  spontaneous  judg- 
ment of  his  contemporaries,  who  knew  him  proverbially  as 
the  "  Good  Knight,"  and  in  the  comprehensive  surname  of 
the  Chevalier,  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche,  have  left  to  us  the 
model  of  a  perfect  character,  with  which  none  among  them- 
selves could  presume  to  compare.  It  is  for  us  now,  from 
the  too  meagre  chronicles,  to  procure  the  proofs  upon  which 
this  noble  reputation  rests. 

The  House  of  Terr  ail,  to  which  Bayard  owes  his  origin, 
was  one  of  the  most  ancient  in  the  province  of  Dauphiny. 
It  was  well  placed  at  the  extremity  of  the  beautiful  valley 
of  Gresivaudan,  which  Louis  XI.  used  to  call  the  Garden 
of  Dauphiny,  and  \ns>  fourth  wonder.  The  lords  of  TeiTail 
had  been  distinguished  fi'om  the  earliest  periods  by  their 
valor  and  intrepidity.  His  grandsire  of  the  fifth  remove, 
Aubert,  was  mortally  wounded  at  the  battle  of  Varces  ; 
Robert,  the  son  of  Aubert,  was  killed  in  the  service  of  the 
Dauphin ;  Humbert  the  First,  in  an  action  with  the  Sa- 
voyards ;  Philip,  the  grandfather  of  Bayard  in  the  third  re- 
move, perished  at  the  feet  of  King  John,  at  the  fatal  battle 
of  Poictiers ;  Pierre,  his  gi'eat-grandfather,  was  killed  at 
Agincourt;  the  brother  of  this  PieiTe  perished  in  the  fight 
of  Vermeuil,  in  1224,  where  no  less  than  three  hundred  of 
the  Dauphinese  gentry — called  by  way  of  honorable  dis- 
tinction, "The  Scarlet  of  France" — lost  their  lives.     His 

*« 


O  HIS    MOTHER. 

grandfather,  wlio  was  called  Pierre  also,  maintained  the 
military  distinction  of  the  family,  and  acquiiing  great  credit 
in  the  wars  with  the  English,  gained  the  surname  of  L'Epee 
Terrail — the  sword  of  the  House  of  Terrail.  He  was  hon- 
ored with  the  respect  and  friendship  of  Charles  VII.,  whom 
he  served  with  tried  fidelity.  He  contributed  more  than 
any  other  individual  to  the  defeat  of  Louis  of  Chalons, 
Prince  of  Orange,  at  the  battle  of  Auton ;  and  when  the 
Dauphin,  afterward  Louis  XL,  presumed  to  claim  his  in- 
dependence, and  to  assert  the  rights  of  a  sovereign  in  Dau- 
phiny,  our  Lord  of  Terrail,  having  no  fear  of  the  future, 
adhered  faithfully  to  the  monarch,  and  was  fortunate,  by 
this  manly  fidelity,  not  to  forfeit  the  respect  and  confidence 
of  the  young  prince,  whom  it  was  not  always  safe  to  offend. 
This  brave  chieftain  shared  the  fate  of  his  ancestors,  and 
died  on  the  field  of  battle  at  Montlhery.  Aymond,  his  son, 
and  the  father  of  him  whose  biography  we  wiite,  followed 
the  example  of  his  house,  and  in  good  season  took  the  pro- 
fession of  the  soldier.  At  the  mature  term  of  sixty-five 
we  find  him  in  the  battle  of  Guinegate,  disabled  from  all 
future  conflicts  by  four  wounds,  by  which  he  lost  the  use 
of  his  arms. 

Helene  des  Allemans,  the  mother  of  Bayard,  is  described 
as  exceedingly  small  of  person,  but  of  great  heart  and  in- 
trepid spirit.  In  one  respect  she  differed  largely  from  her 
husband,  who  is  represented  as  of  great  stature  and  vigor- 
ous fi:ame.  Our  hero  shared  the  characteristics  of  both. 
Honorably  descended,  and  with  an  unbroken  series  of  good 
examples  before  him,  of  courage,  conduct,  and  fidelity,  his 
own  nature  seemed  destined,  even  at  an  early  period,  to 
embody  and  to  perfect  all  the  virtues  of  his  race.  If  it  is 
greatly  honorable  to  found  an  illustrious  family,  it  is  no  less 
meritorious  to  maintain  its  character,  and  finish  nobly  its 
career.  This  destiny  was  reserved  for  Bayard.  He  was 
bom,  the  second  of  four  sons,  in  1476,  in  the  castle  the 
name  of  which  he  bears.     His  father,  at  the  mature  age  of 


CHOOSES    THE    PROFESSION    OF    ARxMS.  7 

eighty,  and  when  Bayard  was  only  thirteen,  finding  his  end 
approaching,  called  his  children  to  his  bedside,  and  exam- 
ined them  as  to  their  choice  of  vocation.  While  two  of  the 
brothers  declared  for  the  church,  and  one  of  them  for  the 
homestead.  Bayard  boldly  avowed  his  passion  for  the  camp. 
He  was  a  lively  lad,  of  playful  disposition,  gay  as  a  lark, 
and  with  an  open,  laughing  countenance.  But  the  face  and 
manner  of  the  boy  served  only  to  conceal,  not  to  impair, 
the  wisdom  of  a  far  maturer  peiiod.  His  answer  was  ex- 
pressed with  sufficient  gravity.  "  I  should  like  to  remain 
with  you,  my  father,  to  the  end  of  your  days  ;  but  your  own 
discourses,  daily,  in  my  hearing,  of  the  noble  men  by  whom 
our  house  has  been  distinguished  in  times  past,  leads  me 
to  desire,  with  your  permission,  that  I  may  also  embrace 
the  profession  of  arms.  This  is  the  pursuit  which  I  most 
affect,  and  I  hope,  with  the  grace  of  God,  to  do  you  no 
dishonor." 

The  tears  of  the  old  man  followed  this  speech.  It  prob- 
ably met  all  his  expectations,  and  may  have  been  the  anti- 
cipated fruit  of  his  own  training.  "  God  grant  that  it  may 
be  so,  my  son.  Already  in  face  and  figure  thou  lookest  like 
thy  grandsire,  who  was  one  of  the  best  knights  in  Christen- 
dom.    I  will  put  thee  in  the  way  of  obtaining  thy  desire." 

We  need  not  linger  for  the  answers  of  the  remaining 
brothers.  They  did  not  share  in  the  military  tastes  of 
Bayard.  These,  in  him,  were  quite  too  decidedly  ex- 
pressed to  be  mistaken.  It  is  true  he  had  shown  nothino- 
of  that  fierce,  unrestrainable  temper,  which  is  supposed  to 
mark  the  character  of  those  who  incline  to  arms  at  an  early 
period.  Though  eager,  his  moods  were  mild — though  firm, 
his  bearing  was  always  gentle.  He  was  the  slave  to  no 
reckless  passions,  and  his  will,  except  in  this  one  respect, 
was  prompt  in  submission  to  that  of  his  superiors.  It  was 
fortunate  that  the  views  of  his  father  seem  to  have  kept 
pace  with  his  own  ;  or,  with  so  strong  a  desire  for  arms,  he 
might,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  have  shown  himself  insub- 


8 


FAMILY    ASSEMBLAGE. 


ordinate.  In  the  direction  his  infant  mind  had  taken,  he 
was  fully  resolved.  He  obeyed  an  instinct.  It  was  not 
that  he  chose  war  as  his  vocation — the  vocation  had  chosen 
him.  His  natural  endowments  required  him  to  go  and  be 
a  soldier,  and  the  stories  which  he  daily  heard  of  the 
achievements  of  his  ancestors  but  strengthened  his  desire 
for  the  performance  of  his  duties.  His  father  did  not  hes- 
itate. He  sent  for  the  Bishop  of  Grenoble,  the  uncle  of 
the  boy,  and  gathered  the  gentry  of  the  neighborhood 
around  him.  The  affair  was  one  of  solemn  import.  It  was 
no  less  than  the  dedication  of  his  son  to  the  country,  and 
the  matter  needed  deliberation.  The  aged  man  sat  like  a 
patriarch,  with  his  friends  and  children  grouped  around 
him.  Dinner  was  served  to  the  guests,  and  Bayard  offi- 
ciated as  a  waiter.  This  custom,  which  would  in  our  day 
equally  offend  the  father  and  the  son,  was,  in  that,  one  of 
the  essential  features  in  the  training  of  the  young  man  am- 
bitious of  distinction.  It  was  no  bad  way,  we  may  add, 
for  securing  the  object  of  desire.  It  taught  obedience  to 
authority,  veneration  for  age  and  superiority,  and  a  patient 
submission  to  the  will  of  others.  These  are  the  great  and 
necessary  lessons  by  which  the  otherwise  imperious  nature 
is  rendered  methodical  and  endued  with  the  requisite 
strength  for  the  due  endurance  of  the  unavoidable  evils  of 
life. 

When  dinner  was  over,  the  patriarch  declared  the  busi- 
ness which  had  led  to  the  assembling  of  his  guests.  "  You 
are  all,"  said  he,  "  my  relatives  and  fiiends.  Give  me  your 
counsel  as  to  the  disposition  of  my  children.  Pierre,  my 
second,  has  given  me  inexpressible  delight,  in  declaring 
his  preference  for  arms.  In  whose  house  shall  I  place  him 
— to  what  noble  prince  or  lord  shall  I  confide  him,  in  order 
that  he  should  acquire  a  proper  deportment,  and  prepare 
himself  for  this  profession]" 

Various  was  the  counsel.  One  was  for  sending  him  to 
the  King  of  France ;  another,  to  the  House  of  Bourbon. 


9 

But  the  Bishop  of  Grenoble  recommended  the  Duke  of 
Savoy,  who  had  always  been  a  friend  of  the  family,  and 
who  was  then  in  the  neighborhood,  at  Chambery.  It  was 
thought  that  the  duke  would  not  hesitate  to  adopt  him  as 
one  of  his  pages.  The  advice  was  taken,  and  the  tailor 
was  kept  busy  with  velvet  and  silks  all  night  to  make  our 
young  page  ready  in  the  morning.  There  were  no  long 
delays  in  that  period ;  and  the  moment  breakfast  was  over, 
the  next  day,  the  horse  was  brought,  and  all  the  company 
went  forth  into  the  court  of  the  castle,  to  see  what  sort  of 
figure  Bayard  would  make  in  appealing  before  the  duke. 
The  horse  was  one  which  he  had  never  crossed  before; — 
but  the  boy  was  fearless.  He  leapt  boldly  upon  the  steed, 
which,  accustomed  to  a  weightier  burden,  and  suddenly 
pricked  by  the  spurs  of  his  new  rider,  dashed  away  with 
an  impatience  of  spirit  which  alarmed  the  family  for  the 
safety  of  the  youth.  But  it  was  with  the  spirit  of  an  Alex- 
ander that  our  Bucephalus  of  Dauphiny  had  to  contend. 
While  the  company  were  looking  to  hear  the  boy  cry  out 
in  apprehension,  he  bestrode  the  animal,  not  only  without 
fear,  but  with  such  a  tiiumphant  courage  as  to  change  their 
doubts  into  delight  and  admiration.  He  struck  the  rowel 
into  the  flanks  of  the  beast,  set  him  off  in  rage,  and  brought 
him  back  in  docility  and  foam,  as  effectually  mastered  as 
if  he  had  been  his  rider  for  twenty  years. 

The  old  father  was  happy  beyond  expression.  "  What ! 
you  are  not  afraid  ]"  he  said  to  his  son,  when  he  had  re- 
turned fi'om  his  gallop.  "  I  hope,"  said  the  boy,  "  before 
six  years  be  gone,  to  make  him,  or  another,  bestir  himself  in 
a  more  dangerous  place.  Here  I  am  among  friends.  I  shall 
then  probably  find  myself  among  the  enemies  of  my  mas- 
ter." At  parting,  the  father  gave  him  his  blessing,  and,  in 
few  words,  exhorted  him  to  be  faithful  to  the  prince  he 
served,  never  to  forget  that  his  natural  sovereign  was  the 
King  of  France,  and  never  to  bear  arms  against  him  or 
against  his  country.     His  pride  kept  down  all  other  feel- 


10 


ADVICE    OF    THE    MOTHER. 


ings.  But  there  was  no  restraint  of  this  sort  upon  his 
mother,  who  did  not  seek  to  conceal  her  tears.  Not  that 
she  had  any  misgivings,  or  felt  any  dislike  to  the  profession 
he  had  chosen.  She  was  proud  of  the  boy,  and  not  un- 
willing that  he  should  engage  in  a  career,  of  which  his 
youthful  promise  showed  such  grateful  auguries,  and  which 
had  already  been  so  honorable  to  his  ancestors.  But,  in 
spite  of  these  feelings  and  connections,  the  mother  declared 
herself  warmly  in  the  tenderness  with  which  her  parting 
charge  was  given  him.  "Pierre,  my  son,"  she  said,  "you 
are  going  into  the  service  of  a  noble  prince  :  now,  as  much 
as  a  mother  can  command  her  child,  look,  there  are  three 
things  which  I  commend  to  you.  First,  you  love  and  sei-ve 
God  in  all  things  without  offending  him ;  night  and  morn- 
ing recommend  yourself  to  him.  He  gave  us  all  that  we 
have,  and  without  him  we  can  do  nothing.  He  will  aid 
you.  Second. — Be  you  mild  and  courteous  to  all,  casting 
away  pride.  Be  humble  and  obliging.  Be  not  a  liar  nor 
a  slanderer.  Be  temperate  in  eating  and  drinking.  Avoid 
envy — it  is  a  mean  excess.  Be  neither  talebearer  nor  flat- 
terer— such  people  never  excel.  Be  loyal  in  word  and 
deed.  Keep  your  promise.  Succor  the  widow  and  orphan, 
and  look  for  your  reward  to  God.  The  third  is,  be  bounti- 
ful to  the  poor  and  needy.  To  give  for  the  honor  of  God 
makes  no  man  poor — your  alms  will  profit  your  body  and 
soul.  Go  now,  my  son,  this  is  all  with  which  I  have  to 
charge  you.  Your  father  and  I  shall  not  live  long,  but  God 
grant  that  while  we  do  live  we  may  hear  nothing  but  good 
of  you." 

The  answer  of  Bayard  was  appropriate,  but  brief  The 
farewell  was  soon  over,  and,  with  a  change  of  linen,  and  a 
little  purse  containing  six  crowns  in  gold,  which  his  moth- 
er at  the  close  of  her  advice  bestowed  upon  him,  our  hero 
departed,  in  the  company  of  his  uncle,  "  thinking  himself," 
in  the  language  of  one  of  his  early  biographers,  "in  Para- 
dise, while  on  the  back  of  his  good  steed." 


CHAPTER  11. 

The  course  of  the  Bishop  of  Grenoble  lay  for  Chambery, 
a  town  within  his  diocese.  Here,  also,  for  the  time,  the 
Duke  of  Savoy  resided.  The  bishop  did  not  at  first  pre- 
sent his  charge  to  the  duke,  but  waiting  for  the  next  day, 
which  was  Sunday,  called  upon  him  on  his  way  to  church, 
at  which  he  was  to  officiate.  The  service  over,  the  bishop 
dined  with  the  duke,  whose  eyes  were  insensibly  drawn  to 
the  graceful  carriage  and  modest  bearing  of  Bayard,  who 
waited  upon  his  uncle  during  the  feast,  as  he  had  done  the 
day  before  at  home.  **  My  Lord  of  Grenoble,"  said  the 
prince,  "  who  is  this  young  child  who  gives  you  to  drink  ?" 
**  He  is  one,  my  lord,  whom  I  have  brought  to  enter  your 
sei-vice  as  a  man  of  arms,  if  you  please.  He  is  not  now  in 
the  condition  in  which  I  am  desirous  to  give  him  to  you. 
After  dinner,  if  it  be  your  pleasure,  you  shall  see  him." 
The  behavior  of  the  boy  had  already  found  favor  in  the 
eyes  of  the  duke.  "  Truly,"  he  exclaimed,  "  he  must  be  a 
strange  person  who  should  refuse  such  a  present."  Dis- 
missed to  his  own  repast,  Bayard  ate  little.  He  was  too 
eager  for  the  promised  presentation  ;  and,  getting  his  horse 
saddled,  and  himself  in  readiness,  he  soon  made  his  appear- 
ance in  the  court  of  the  palace.  The  duke,  fi'om  his  galle- 
ry, beheld  the  entrance  of  the  boy,  his  horse  bounding  and 
curvetting  beneath  the  spur  of  his  rider,  who  kept  his  seat 
with  a  bearing  as  firm  and  confident  as  if  he  had  been  a 
man  of  thirty,  who  had  seen  battles  all  his  life.  The  duke 
was  delighted  with  his  acquisition.  "  Verily,"  he  exclaimed, 
"this  boy  is  to  become  a  man.     I  accept  him  willingly. 


12  TRAINING    OF    CHIVALRY. 

Your  present,  my  Lord  of  Grenoble,  is  a  good  and  hand- 
some one." 

Bayard  was  placed  in  charge  of  one  of  the  most  faithful 
of  the  duke's  equeries.  He  was  now  to  be  trained  to 
serve  and  to  perform.  We  have  all  some  general  idea  of 
the  sort  of  training  which  was  considered  necessary  to  pre- 
pare the  page  to  become  the  man-at-arms.  In  the  modem 
period  of  which  we  write,  the  scheme  of  training  had  be- 
come far  less  rigorous  than  it  was  when  chivalry  was  in 
fashion.  Still,  as  it  contemplated  the  duties  of  the  soldier, 
it  was  moderately  severe  and  rigid.  The  education  was 
calculated  to  make  the  pupil  manly  and  robust,  to  practice 
him  in  the  use  of  his  weapons,  and  to  exercise  him  in 
horsemanship.  To  wait  and  to  obey,  required  a  term  of 
years,  and  this  was  the  apprenticeship.  Though  the  duties 
were  humble,  and  the  superior  exacting,  there  was  nothing 
degrading  in  the  situation.  It  was  regarded  rather  as 
highly  becoming  and  honorable,  being  held  absolutely  es- 
sential to  future  usefulness  and  distinction.  It  was  the 
ordeal  through  which  only  was  the  novitiate  to  lise.  The 
page  performed  the  duties  of  a  domestic.  He  attended  his 
master  in  his  walks  and  wanderings,  bore  his  messages,  fol- 
lowed him  in  the  chase,  and  poured  out  for  him  the  drink 
at  table.  He  was  taught  by  the  conversation  of  his  supe- 
riors, and  this  constant  attendance  afforded  as  constant  op- 
portunities for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and  just  opin- 
ion. In  this  school  he  was  taught  good  manners  and  im- 
bued with  elevated  and  refined  tastes.  Lessons,  in  partic- 
ular, were  regularly  given  in  matters  of  religion — the  love 
of  God  was  specially  insisted  on,  and,  with  scarcely  less 
earnestness,  the  love  of  women,  and  a  pure  respect  and  de- 
votion for  the  sex.  The  youth  was  required  to  choose 
from  the  young  damsels  of  the  court  one  to  whom  he  could 
refer  his  sentiments  and  thoughts.  She  was  the  immediate 
image,  symbolical  of  the  pure  and  delicate,  which,  in  the 
moment  of  action  and  difficulty,  became  at  once  obvious  to 


EXERCISES    OF    CHIVALRY.  13 

his  mind  and  eye.  These  associations  taught  decorum  and 
gentleness  of  manners,  which  were  among  the  essential 
requisites  of  perfect  knighthood.  Leisure  for  sports  of  va- 
rious kinds  was  accorded  to  the  pages,  and  the  games  in 
which  he  exercised  were  made  to  operate  in  his  moral  and 
physical  instruction.  These  were  usually  of  a  manly  char- 
acter, calculated  to  provoke  emulation,  and  to  impart  vigor 
and  elasticity.  The  objects  of  the  school  being  understood, 
it  will  not  be  difficult  to  conceive  the  various  processes  em- 
ployed, by  which  such  objects  were  to  be  attained.  To  the 
young  and  ardent  spirit,  eager  for  glory,  and  burning  to 
ascend  the  heights  of  distinction,  the  ordeal  was  at  once  in- 
oppressive  and  exacting.  To  Bayard,  already  in  great 
part  trained  by  the  lessons  of  his  father,  and  the  contem- 
plation of  the  histories  of  all  his  ancestors,  the  duties  of  his 
new  life  were  comparatively  easy.  He  soon  won  the  heart 
of  the  equerry  who  had  been  assigned  him,  and  the  hearts 
of  all  others  who  beheld  his  docility,  the  meekness  of  his 
temper,  the  purity  and  truthfulness  of  his  soul.  The  youth, 
his  companions — the  sei-vants,  his  attendants — the  knights,  his 
superiors — all,  in  short,  with  whom  he  came  in  connection, 
grew  subject  to  the  rare  fascination  with  which  he  con- 
trived to  spell  the  affections.  Never  did  pupil  do  more  honor 
to  his  master.  He  remained  with  the  Duke  of  Savoy  but 
six  months,  doing  ample  justice  to  his  seiTice.  In  this  pe- 
riod he  learned  to  excel  all  his  associates,  wdthout  offend- 
ing their  pride  or  provoking  their  enmity.  In  leaping,  run- 
ning, wrestling,  hurling  the  bai'  and  horsemanship,  he  won 
the  prize  from  all  competitors,  noble  and  simple.  When 
the  old  chronicler  tells  us  that  "  he  was  serviceahle  to  the 
lords  and  ladies,  even  to  a  marvel,"  we  perceive,  in  some 
measure,  the  secret  of  his  success ;  since,  to  become  grate- 
fully useful  to  those  around  us,  is  to  exhibit  the  surest  sign 
of  affection,  and  to  practice  the  happiest  benevolence. 
Winning  the  esteem  of  lords  and  ladies  by  his  grace  and 
docility,  and  the  attachment  of  his  inferiors  by  his  affable 

B 


14  THE    PAGE    IN    LOVE. 

sweetness  of  demeanor,  he  soon  succeeded  in  making  an- 
other conquest — that  of  a  sweetheart.  The  personal  ap- 
pearance of  our  page,  at  this  period,  is  described  by  his 
biogi'apher  as  not  unworthy  of  his  bearing  and  his  charac- 
ter. His  person  was  erect  and  tall,  and  his  carriage  was 
easy  and  full  of  grace.  His  features  were  sweet  and  be- 
nignant, his  eyes  black  and  full  of  fire,  his  nose  aquiline, 
his  skin  fair  and  smooth,  and  of  fine  complexion,  and  his 
hair,  which  he  wore  short,  of  a  rich  chesnut-color.  In  all 
respects  he  was  the  person  to  persuade  and  please  the  eyes 
of  a  lady. 

Among  the  damsels  who  were  attached  to  the  court  of 
the  Duchess  of  Savoy,  bearing  a  like  relation  to  that  dame 
with  that  of  the  page  to  the  duke,  there  was  one  nearly  the 
same  age  with  Bayard.  She  was  of  noble  family,  but 
without  fortune.  But  she  had  all  besides  which  could  win 
the  regards  of  a  warm  and  affectionate  nature.  She  was 
amiable  and  lovely,  and  possessed  of  numerous  accom- 
plishments. She  was  among  the  first  to  become  conscious 
of  the  noble  qualities  of  our  page.  He,  too,  very  soon  dis- 
covered the  impression  which  he  had  made  upon  her.  To 
be  loved  at  all,  by  one  equally  beautiful  and  virtuous,  is 
enough  to  affect  favorably  the  heart  of  a  boy  ;  and  from  the 
moment  that  he  made  his  discovery,  the  thoughts  of  young 
Bayard  ran  upon  nothing  so  much  as  the  maiden.  His 
usual  exercises,  his  most  favorite  sports,  were  neglected, 
and  he  soon  contrived  a  meeting  in  secret  with  his  little 
lady.  The  school  in  which  they  were  mutually  taught  had 
rendered  easy  the  expression  of  his  attachment ;  but  it  was  a 
school  in  which  the  passions  were  not  enlivened  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  principles.  Bayard  had  been  too  well  tutored 
by  his  parents  to  harbor  any  but  the  purest  sentiments, 
and,  precocious  as  he  was  in  these,  he  had  received  no  im- 
pelling suggestions  of  evil  from  any  other  source.  Without 
a  thought  but  that  of  simple  devotion,  the  boy  threw  him- 
self at  the  feet  of  the  girl  and  poured   forth  the   most 


THE    maiden's    counsel.  15 

tender  assurances  of  love.  She  answered  him  with  tears, 
and  with  an  avowal  of  her  own  affections.  But  she  was 
more  prudent  than  her  lover,  and  asked  mournfully  to  what 
his  boy-passion  would  conduct.  **  I  am  young,"  said  Bay- 
ard, "but  I  am  animated  with  a  passion  for  glory  as  well 
as  for  yourself  I  will  make  myself  famous,  and  when  I 
have  acquired  distinction  by  my  exploits,  I  will  return  and 
make  you  my  wife."  The  noble  little  damsel  was  gener- 
ous in  her  sentiments.  "  Alas  !"  she  said,  "  we  must  not 
entertain  such  projects.  I  am  without  fortune,  and  you 
may  reasonably  pretend  to  the  greatest.  In  accepting  your 
affections,  I  destroy  your  hopes.  That  I  love  you,  I  can 
not  disguise  ;  but  let  us  subdue  the  sentiment,  for  our  mu- 
tual sakes,  to  a  sincere  and  tender  fiiendship.  This  senti- 
ment will  biing  us  no  reproaches."  The  ardent  boy  would 
have  caught  her  in  his  arms ;  but  the  circumspect  little 
maiden  reproved  the  rashness  in  her  prettiest  manner. 
"  Do  not  forget,  dear  Terrail,  what  is  due  to  a  young  crea- 
ture who  is  the  protegee  of  the  duchess."  The  words  in- 
stantly restrained  the  impulse  of  the  enamored  youth.  The 
instinct  of  duty  and  propriety  at  once  brought  him  to  his 
senses — "  I  will  violate  no  hospitality — I  will  not  forget 
what  is  due  to  the  noble  benefactors  whom  we  serve,  nor 
be  wanting  in  respect  to  the  being  that  I  love ;  but  I  will 
not  for  this  renounce  my  hope.  I  will  speak  to  the  duch- 
ess, declare  my  love,  and  implore  her  sanction  of  a  flame 
as  warm  as  it  is  pure." 

But  fate  interposed  to  thwart  the  gallant  purpose  of  our 
page.  That  very  evening,  the  Duke  of  Savoy  gave  orders 
to  prepare  the  next  day  to  depart  for  Lyons,  where  he  was 
to  join  the  king.  Bayard  was  required  to  accompany  him. 
But  a  single  opportunity  was  afforded  him  for  speaking 
with  the  duchess,  and  his  heart  failed  him  at  the  proper 
moment.  The  chance  was  never  given  him  again.  The 
next  day  saw  him  on  the  road  to  Lyons,  where  Charles 
VIIL,  a  feeble  but  ambitious  monarch,  was  making  merry 


1(3       ATTRACTS    THE    EYE    OP    THE    COUNT    DE    LIGNY. 

•with  his  courtiers.  Each  day  was  distinguished  by  tilt  and 
tourney  ;  and,  deficient  in  many  of  the  higher  qualities  of  the 
sovereign,  it  is  but  just  to  accord  to  this  prince  the  merit 
of  being  a  good  companion,  affable  among  his  noblesse,  and 
indulgent  to  his  people.  His  ambition  led  him  to  attempt 
objects  which  his  feeble  will  and  intellect  never  suffered 
him  to  attain.  He  had  the  vanity  to  emulate  the  career 
of  Charlemagne,  and  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  foreign 
countiies,  when  the  peaceful  tourney  should  have  satisfied 
him  in  his  own. 

Hearing  of  the  approach  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  Charles, 
with  whom  he  was  a  favorite,  dispatched  the  Count  de 
Ligny,  with  an  escort  of  gentlemen,  to  meet  and  conduct 
him  to  his  presence.  The  eyes  of  the  count  were  very 
soon  drawn  to  the  peculiar  elegance  of  our  page's  horse- 
manship. "  Your  page  rides  a  steed  of  mettle,  and  knows 
how  to  manage  him  deftly."  "  It  is  but  half  a  year  that  I 
have  had  him,"  was  the  answer  of  the  duke,  "  and  he  had 
then  just  left  school ;  yet  never  have  I  seen  a  lad  of  his  age 
who  carried  himself  more  manfully  either  on  foot  or  horse- 
back. He  comes  of  a  bold  and  spirited  race,  and  he  will 
take  after  them."  Then,  speaking  to  Bayard,  he  com- 
manded him  to  give  his  horse  the  spur.  Our  page  desired 
nothing  better,  and  proceeded  to  exhibit  such  feats  of 
horsemanship  as  compelled  the  admiration  of  the  company. 
"  On  my  faith,"  said  the  Count  de  Ligny,  "  this  young  gen- 
tleman will  become  a  noble  gallant,  if  he  lives.  You  will 
do  well,  my  lord,  to  present  both  horse  and  rider  to  the 
king."  "  On  my  soul,"  said  the  duke,  "  since  you  ad\'ise, 
it  shall  be  done.  I  love  the  youth,  but  could  not  confide 
him  to  a  better  school  than  that  of  the  Court  of  France." 

The  day  following,  the  king  entertained  the  duke  at  din- 
ner, together  with  the  lords  of  Ligny  and  Avenues.  During 
the  repast,  the  discourse  turned  upon  dogs  and  horses,  love 
and  war,  the  chase  and  deeds  of  arms.  The  occasion  re- 
minded the  Count  de  Ligny  of  the  performance  of  Bayard. 


THE    KING    DEMANDS    TO    SEE    HIM.  17 

"  Sire."  said  he,  "  I  swear  to  you  on  my  fay  that  my  lord 
of  Savoy  hath  a  mind  to  give  you  a  page  who  rides  a  steed 
as  well  as  ever  I  saw  youth  in  my  life.  He  is  not  more 
than  fourteen  years  old,  yet  he  manages  his  horse  like  a 
man  of  thirty.  If  you  will  be  pleased  to  go  and  hear  ves- 
pers at  Esnay,  you  shall  have  some  pleasure  in  beholding 
him."  The  king,  who  was  too  devout  a  Christian  to  swear 
any  but  a  pretty  little  oath,  exclaimed,  "  By  the  faith  of  my 
body,  I  am  willing.  But,  cousin,"  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy, 
"  whence  got  you  this  proper  page  whom  our  cousin  of 
Ligny  speaks  of?"  He  was  answered,  and  the  duke  was 
no  ways  slow  to  insist  upon  the  remarkable  merits  of 
the  boy.  Bayard  was  not  present  at  this  conversation, 
but  it  soon  reached  his  ears,  for  his  comrades  loved  him  too 
well  to  withhold  any  news  which  might  gratify  his  ambition. 
It  would  have  delighted  him  less  to  have  gained  the  whole 
city  of  Lyons.  He  at  once  hurried  to  the  head  groom  of 
the  stable,  Pison  de  Chenas,  and  said  to  him,  "  Friend 
groom,  they  tell  me  that  the  king  wills  to  see  my  horse  af- 
ter dinner,  and  me  thereon.  Now,  I  pray  you  to  put  him 
in  proper  order,  and  I  will  give  you  my  short  dagger,  with 
all  my  heart."  "  Nay,  keep  your  truncheon,"  said  the 
gi'oom,  with  whom  he  was  a  favorite  as  with  all  the  rest. 
**  Do  you  go  and  get  yourself  in  trim,  and  your  horse  will 
be  in  readiness.  God  give  you  this  fortune,  my  friend,  that 
the  King  of  France  may  take  you  into  favor,  so  that  you 
may  arrive  at  a  high  prefemient.  Some  time  or  other, 
when  you  are  a  great  lord,  I  may  find  my  account  in  it.** 
"  On  my  faith,  master,"  said  the  youth,  "  I  shall  never  for- 
get your  kindness  and  good  lessons  ever  since  I  have  been 
in  the  household  of  my  lord,  and  if  God  ever  do  biing  me 
to  preferment,  you  shall  be  made  sensible  of  my  remem- 
brance." A  few  hours  brought  him  a  summons  to  attend 
the  king,  to  whom  the  duke  had  presented  him,  and  who 
wished  to  see  his  performance  in  the  meadow  of  Esnay. 
The  messenger  was  that  same  equerry  to  whom  the  duke 


18 

had  given  the  page  in  charge  when  he  first  entered  the 
sei-vice  of  the  former.  He,  too,  had  grown  aifectionately 
fond  of  his  pupil,  and  he  conveyed  his  message  in  tones  of 
real  disquietude.  *'  It  is  not  that  I  grieve  at  your  advance- 
ment, my  friend,  but  that  we  are  to  part  with  you."  Bay- 
ard replied  to  him  with  a  grateful  heart,  thanked  him  for 
all  his  past  insti-uctions,  and  pledged  himself  neither  to  be 
ungrateful  for,  nor  unworthy  of  them. 

There  was  no  time  for  delay.  The  king  had  gone  by 
water  on  the  Saone,  with  the  duke  and  their  respective 
suites.  The  first  object  that  drew  his  attention  as  he 
reached  the  land  was  our  page  on  horseback,  in  charge  of 
the  equeny.  He,  like  all  the  rest,  was  struck  by  the  per- 
fect grace  and  the  consummate  address  of  this  youthfiil 
squire,  and  as  Bayard  subdued  his  steed  to  a  pause,  the 
delighted  king  cried  out  to  him  across  the  plain,  to  give  the 
animal  the  spur,  and  renew  his  exercise.  There  needed  no 
second  summons.  The  young  cavalier  yielded  the  bridle 
to  the  straining  neck  of  the  horse  as  he  sent  him  headlong 
forward  under  the  shai'p  urgency  of  the  spur,  took  the 
circuit  of  the  plain,  made  him  take  several  leaps,  and  dart- 
ing at  full  gallop  toward  the  king,  stopped  him  short  with 
a  curvet,  at  a  proper  distance  from  the  royal  person. 

Charles  was  delighted  beyond  measure,  and  exclaimed 
to  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  "  Cousin,  it  is  impossible  to  do  bet- 
ter." Turning  to  Bayard,  he  said,  "  Again  the  spur — spur 
him  again  ;"  and  the  surrounding  pages,  echoing  the  king's 
words,  cried,  "  Spur,  spur — fiquez,  fiquez^'  so  frequently, 
that  the  surname  of  'Piquet  was  for  some  time  after  fas- 
tened upon  our  hero.  His  second  performances  were  equal 
to  the  first.  "  All  is  true,"  said  the  king  to  the  duke,  *'  that 
my  cousin  of  Ligny  told  me.  I  will  not  wait  till  you  give 
me  your  page  and  horee — 1  beg  them  at  your  hands." 
"  The  master  himself  is  yours,"  answered  the  duke,  "  and 
the  rest  may  well  be  so.  God  give  the  boy  grace  to  do 
you  some  great  sei-vice."     "  It  is  impossible,"  replied  the 


IS    MADE    A    MAN-AT-ARMS.  19 

king,  "  tnat  he  should  not  become  a  man  of  worth.  Cousin 
of  Ligny,  I  put  the  page  under  your  care."  The  count 
was  grateful  for  a  commission  which  promised  to  do  him 
honor.  He  placed  the  boy  among  his  pages,  and,  during 
the  three  years  in  which  he  held  this  position,  he  succeed- 
ed in  gaining  for  himself  the  affections  of  the  new  house- 
hold as  certainly  as  he  had  won  those  of  the  duke's.  The 
count  himself  became  sincerely  attached  to  him,  and  his 
confidence  in  his  future  greatness  was  increased  and  con- 
firmed by  the  daily  development  of  his  various  qualities  of 
gentle  and  noble  heart,  and  generous,  ingenuous  nature. 
When  he  was  but  seventeen,  he  was  raised  to  the  station  of 
man-at-arras,  and  took  his  place  in  the  company  under  the 
immediate  command  of  the  Count  de  Ligny.  This  promo- 
tion did  not  imply  a  place  simply  in  the  army.  In  the  case 
of  Bayard,  it  was  the  rank  of  a  gentleman  of  the  household, 
about  the  immediate  person  of  his  captain — a  post  equiv- 
alent to  that  of  the  aide-de-camp  of  modem  times,  with  this 
addition,  that  the  man-at-arms,  in  turn,  held  his  immediate 
retainei's,  the  number  being  regulated  by  royal  ordinance, 
and  varying  according  to  circumstances,  under  the  several 
decrees  of  the  king.  For  this  the  knight  paid  as  for  a  license, 
the  amount  of  fine  or  assessment  going  to  the  public  reve- 
nue. The  force  thus  allotted  to  a  lance,  or  man-at-arms, 
was  of  a  mixed  character,  so  as  to  represent  most  of  the 
several  elements  of  an  army.  He  himself  bore  lance  and 
sword,  or  battle-ax,  and,  in  the  time  of  Bayard,  was  follow- 
ed by  three  archers,  a  page  and  an  esquire.  One  hundred 
lancers  thus  implied  six  hundred  men,  and  fifteen  compa- 
nies of  a  hundred  lancers  each,  made  a  select  body  of  nine 
thousand  troops.  To  be  a  man-at-arms  was  a  much-desired 
privilege  at  this  period,  as  it  was  seldom  given  but  to  favor. 
It  was  sought  wdth  eagerness  by  the  gentry,  and  numerous 
volunteers,  from  the  class  of  wealthy  plebeians,  augmented 
the  ranks  as  volunteers,  with  the  hope  that,  by  gallant  per- 
fprmances,  they  might  be  admitted  to  supply  the  vacant 


20  THE    MAN-AT-ARMS. 

places.  The  corps  constituted  an  aristocracy,  proud  of  its 
distinction  and  jealous  of  its  reputation.  This  feeling  con- 
tributed to  its  high  renown.  During  the  reign  of  Charles 
VIII.  and  his  immediate  successor,  it  was  considered  in 
some  sort  invincible.  It  will  be  seen  how  much  our  youth- 
ful hero  contributed,  by  his  personal  prowess,  to  this  grate- 
ful reputation. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Charles  was  absent  from  Lyons  some  three  years,  mak- 
ing the  tour  of  his  realm.  Meanwhile,  our  page  prospered, 
as  we  have  seen — gradually  passing  into  a  premature  man- 
hood, and  acquiring  the  tmsts  which  belong  only  to  that 
character.  When  the  king  returned  to  Lyons,  there  was 
naturally  a  resumption  of  all  the  courtly  pleasures  and  pas- 
times which  made  him  a  favorite  with  his  people  in  spite  of 
his  many  royal  deficiencies.  Among  the  events  which  oc- 
cuiTed  to  increase  the  animation  of  the  Lyonese,  after  the 
return  of  the  court,  was  the  appearance  among  them  of  a 
celebrated  Burgundian  cavalier,  named  Claude  de  Vaudray. 
He  was  a  knight  of  extraordinaiy  address  in  arms,  who 
loved  nothing  better  than  to  display  his  ability.  He  de- 
manded of  the  king  a  tournament,  by  which  to  occupy  his 
young  noblesse,  and  keep  them  from  idleness  and  rust 
The  king,  whose  piety  did  not  interfere  either  with  his 


22  CLAUDE    DE    VAUDRAY. 

pleasures  or  his  ambition,  and  who  loved  the  sports  of  chiv- 
alry as  becoming  images  of  w^ar,  readily  gave  ear  to  the 
application.  The  touraey,  as  arranged  by  Claude  de  Vau- 
dray,  vi^ho  vv^as  well  skilled  in  all  such  matters,  was  to  con- 
sist of  several  courses  of  knights  on  horseback,  and  com- 
bats between  foot  and  horse,  with  the  lance  and  battle-ax. 
Those  who  desired  to  prove  their  courage  and  skill  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  enter  the  arena  where  the  gentleman 
of  Burgundy  had  hung  up  his  shield,  awaiting  the  chal- 
lengers ;  to  touch  it  with  the  hand  or  lance,  and  send  in 
his  name  to  the  master  of  the  tourney. 

Our  man-at-arms  passed  before  the  shields  with  mo- 
mently-increasing interest.  He  stood  before  that,  in  par- 
ticular, which  belonged  to  Claude  de  Vaudray,  with  eyes  of 
longing  and  despondency.  His  meditations  were  sufficient- 
ly discouraging.  To  touch  the  shield  was  easy  enough,  but 
the  conditions  of  chivalry  were  such  as  to  put  entirely  out 
of  the  question  the  claims  of  a  gallant  who  could  not  ap- 
pear in  certain  style  and  with  a  certain  equipage.  Bravery 
was  a  term  in  that  day  of  a  twofold  signification.  The 
knight  must  not  only  be,  but  he  must  look  brave ;  and  the 
pomp  and  splendor  of  the  exhibition  made  no  small  part 
of  the  attraction  among  the  spectators.  Our  man-at-arms, 
with  a  small  stipend  nicely  calculated  for  his  absolute  ne- 
cessities, was  without  the  means  to  furnish  himself  with  the 
appointments  proper  to  the  combat.  Armor,  and  fine 
clothes,  and  horses,  were  essential  before  he  could  pre- 
sume to  take  his  station  with  the  ambitious  company  which 
Claude  de  Vaudray  had  gathered  around  him.  His  melan- 
choly drew  the  notice  of  one  of  his  companions,  named 
Pierre  de  Bocquieres,  lord  of  Bellabre — a  gentleman,  hke 
himself,  of  the  suite  of  the  Count  de  Ligny,  a  very  brave 
fellow,  and  one  whom  Bayard  had  inspired  with  a  very 
warm  attachment  which  continued  through  his  life.  "  Wliat 
troubles  you,  comrade  1  You  seem  thunder-struck,"  said 
Bellabre.     **  I  feel  so,"  was  the  reply  ;   "  and  this  is  the 


TOUCHES  THE  SHIELD  6f  THE  CHALLENGER.     23 

reason.  Here,  now,  I  am  no  longer  a  page.  Our  good 
lord  hath  made  me  a  gentleman,  but  I  have  not  the  means 
to  appear  as  one.  I  long  to  touch  the  shield  of  Messire 
Claude  de  Vaudray ;  but  when  I  have  done  so,  where  am 
I  to  find  the  armor,  and  where  the  horses  V 

Bellabre  was  something  older  than  Bayard,  and  knew 
much  more  of  the  world.  He  was  a  bold  fellow,  with 
possibly  a  sly  humor  of  his  own,  which  did  not  always 
hesitate  to  seek  indulgence  at  the  expense  of  his  neighbor. 
He  answered  his  sorrowful  comrade  with  a  smile,  "  Why 
should  these  doubts  distress  you?  Have  you  not  a  fat 
priest  for  a  kinsman  ]  Is  not  your  gi'eat  uncle  the  rich 
Abbot  of  Esnay  ]  We  will  go  to  him  ;  and  I  vow  to  God, 
if  he  won't  furnish  us  the  means,  we  will  lay  hands  on 
crosier  and  mitre."  This  was  a  very  irreverent  boldness 
on  the  part  of  Bellabre ;  but  the  anxiety  of  Bayard  to  en- 
counter the  challenge  prevented  him  from  the  indulgence 
of  many  unnecessary  scruples.  His  companion  made  so 
light  of  the  difficulty  that  he  at  once  proceeded  to  smite 
the  shield.  We  may  imagine  him  to  have  done  so  with 
something  of  the  spirit  and  force  of  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe, 
when  he  thrust  the  bright  shaft  of  his  lance,  for  the  combat 
a  Voutrance,  against  that  of  Brian  de  Bois  Guilbert.  The 
sensation  was  quite  as  great  among  the  spectators.  **  How, 
my  friend  Piquet" — for  the  surname  of  the  king  still  clung 
to  him — "  How  !"  exclaimed  the  master-at-arms,  "  will  you, 
with  a  beard  not  of  three  years'  growth — will  you  presume 
to  fight  with  Messire  Claude  de  Vaudray,  one  of  the 
fiercest  knights  that  you  may  hear  of"  Admirable  as  they 
thought  the  youth  in  his  bearing  and  ability,  there  were 
none  who  did  not  regard  this  boldness  as  so  much  boyish 
presumption.  But  Bayard  answered  with  laudable  mod- 
esty—  "It  is  not  fi:om  pride  and  aiTOgance,  my  finend, 
but  that  I  desire  to  have  a  knowledge  of  arms,  wherever  I 
can,  fi-om  those  who  can  best  bestow  it.  I  would  learn  by 
little  and  little,  and  it  may  be  that  God  may  give  me  grace 


24  THE    ABBOT    OF    ESNAY. 

to  do  something  which  shall  please  the  ladies."  The  an- 
swer provoked  the  laughter  of  the  king-at-arms,  and  de- 
lighted all  who  heard  it.  The  noise  of  the  proceeding  soon 
ran  through  the  court.  Piquet  had  touched  the  shield  of 
the  Burgundian  challenger.  The  Count  de  Ligny  carried 
the  tidings  to  the  king,  who  rejoiced  greatly,  exclaiming, "  By 
the  faith  of  my  body,  cousin  of  Ligny,  your  breeding  of  this 
boy  will  bring  you  honor,  as  my  heart  tells  me."  The 
count,  though  pleased,  was  not  without  his  anxieties.  "  We 
shall  see  what  will  come  of  it,"  he  replied :  "  Piquet  is 
yet  very  young  to  stand  the  blows  of  Messire  Claude  de 
Vaudray.  But  I  would  rather  than  ten  thousand  crowns 
that  it  should  be  so." 

To  touch  the  shield  boldly  did  not  by  any  means  over- 
come the  worst  difficulty  in  the  way  of  our  champion.  To 
procure  the  means  for  the  adventure  from  the  miserly  gi'asp 
of  his  fat  uncle  was  a  toil  from  which  Bayard  shrunk,  natu- 
rally, with  doubt  and  apprehension.  He  knew  the  nig- 
gardly disposition  of  his  kinsman,  and  how  little  he  was 
sensible  to  the  deeds  of  chivalry.  To  have  obtained  the 
means  from  the  Bishop  of  Grenoble,  had  he  been  at  hand, 
would  have  been  an  easy  matter ;  —  but  this  Abbot  of 
Esnay !  Our  man-at-arms  turaed  to  his  comrade,  Bellabre, 
who  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  desert  him  at  his  need. 
They  went  together  to  the  abbot  whom  they  found  walking 
in  his  garden  at  Esnay,  with  one  of  his  monks,  and  at  his 
devotions.  The  news  had  already  reached  the  reverend 
father  of  the  audacity  of  his  nephew  in  touching  the  shield 
of  Claude  de  Vaudray.  He  anticipated,  accordingly,  the 
mission  upon  which  he  came,  and  his  reception,  though 
warm  enough,  was  any  thing  but  cordial.  "What!"  said 
he,  "  you,  a  boy  but  seventeen  years  old — but  three  days 
ago  a  page — who  made  you  so  bold  to  touch  the  shield  of 
Messire  Claude  de  Vaudray  1  You  grow  too  presumptuous, 
and  should  be  made  to  feel  the  rod  again."  The  youth 
modestly  replied :    "  I  assure  you,  my  lord,  it  is  not  pride 


FORCED    CONTRIBUTIONS.  25 

which  has  made  me  do  this,  but  solely  the  desire  to  become 
worthy  of  my  ancestors  and  yours.  I  beseech  you,  then,  as 
the  only  near  relative  whom  I  have  at  Lyons,  that  you  will 
furnish  me  with  the  means  for  this  occasion."  "  On  my 
faith,"  said  the  reverend  father,  "  you  get  no  money  fi'om 
me ;  the  wealth  of  the  church  is  for  the  service  of  God, 
and  not  to  be  wasted  in  jousts  and  tourneys." 

The  bishop  looked  inflexible,  and  Bayard  blank;  but 
Bellabre  here  took  up  the  parole,  and  significantly  remind- 
ed the  reverend  father  that,  but  for  the  prowess  of  knight- 
hood there  had  been  no  Abbey  of  Esnay  to  endow — that  it 
was  the  military  reputation,  indeed,  of  his  own  ancestors 
which  had  obtained  for  him  his  abbacy.  "  A  sense  of  past 
benefits  alone,"  said  the  speaker,  "  to  say  nothing  of  what 
may  follow  hereafter,  should  make  you  incline  to  the  ap- 
plication of  your  nephew.  He  has  already  won  honor  for 
his  name,  is  in  high  favor  with  the  king  and  my  lord  of 
Ligny,  and  will  you,  for  a  matter  of  two  hundred  crowns, 
endanger  his  future  prospects,  which  may  be  worth  to  you 
ten  thousand."  A  hint  adroitly  administered,  that  his  nig- 
gardliness toward  his  nephew,  with  whom  every  body  else 
was  pleased,  would  be  very  apt  to  provoke  the  disgust  of 
the  king  and  all  the  courtiers,  concluded  the  discussion, 
which  had  taken  place  in  the  garden.  Sore,  but  consent- 
ing, the  penurious  abbot  led  the  way  to  the  dwelling,  and 
opening  a  window,  he  drew  from  it  a  little  purse,  which  he 
put  into  the  hands  of  Bellabre.  '*  Here,"  said  he,  with  a 
biting  sarcasm,  "  are  an  hundred  crowns,  which  I  put  into 
your  charge,  that  you  may  buy  two  horses  for  this  valiant 
man-at-arms,  seeing  that  he  is  himself  quite  too  young  to 
handle  money.  I  shall  write  to  Laurencin  to  furnish  him 
with  the  necessary  habiliments."  The  good  abbot  never 
fancied  that  these  habiliments  would  cost  more  than  a  hun- 
dred francs;  but  as  the  order  was  unlimited,  Bellabre  as- 
sumed the  privilege  of  judging  for  his  young  friend  what 
should  be  the  proper  extent  of  the  expenditure.     Possessed 

r 


26  MORALS    OP    CHIVALRY. 

of  the  purse  and  order,  they  took  their  leave  with  many 
expressions  of  gi-atitude,  to  which  the  abbot  seems  to  have 
listened  with  indifference.  Once  out  of  his  sight,  Bellabre 
conveyed  to  his  companion  a  portion  of  that  peculiar  moral 
philosophy  which,  in  those  days,  did  no  discredit  to  the 
soldier.  "  You  must  know,  comrade,  that  when  God  be- 
stows good  fortune  upon  men,  as  he  has  done  this  day  upon 
you,  they  should  do  WTong  not  to  profit  by  his  bounty  :  the 
bread  is  holy  which  we  rob  from  the  priesthood.  Here, 
now,  is  the  order  to  Laurencin — let  us  use  it  quickly,  ere 
the  abbot  reconsiders.  When  he  remembers  that  he  hath  set 
no  limits  to  his  bounty  in  this  order,  he  will  amend  it.  Let 
us  use  it  quickly  to  procure  all  your  accoutrements,  not 
simply  for  the  tourney,  but  for  the  year  to  come.  You  will 
get  nothing  farther  from  his  hands." 

Bayard  laughed  at  the  philosophy  of  his  fiiend,  the  pro- 
priety of  which  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt.  The  age,  in 
which  religion  was  quite  too  fi'equently  employed  as  the 
cloak  for  crime  and  idleness,  did  not  visit,  with  much  sever- 
ity, offences  of  this  sort  against  a  luxurious  priesthood. 
The  advice  of  Bellabre  was  adopted.  Laurencin  was  wait- 
ed upon  the  moment  that  they  reached  Lyons ;  the  order 
was  promptly  honored  by  the  merchant,  to  whom  Bellabre 
told  a  story  highly  creditable  to  the  abbot ;  whom  he  repre- 
sented as  greatly  delighted  with  the  rising  fame  of  his 
nephew,  to  whom  he  had  given  a  good  breakfast,  three 
hundred  crowns,  and  the  ample  order,  of  which  Laurencin 
was  possessed  already.  The  tradesman  placed  his  shop 
at  the  service  of  the  two.  He  paraded  his  stuffs  of  gold 
and  silver,  his  rich  velvets,  embroidered  satins,  and  gor- 
geous silks,  commodities  in  which  that  age  was  even  more 
luxurious  than  ours.  The  young  knight  was  not  suftered 
to  stint  himself,  by  the  shrewd  companion  at  his  side.  He 
took  what  was  necessaiy  to  his  wants,  and  what  was  grate- 
ful to  his  eye,  and  the  tailors  were  soon  put  in  requisition 
to  convert  his  goods  into  becoming  garments. 


TRIBULATION    OP    THE    ABBOT.  27 

Our  abbot  was  not  slow  to  discover  the  excellence  of  the 
jest.  Boasting  at  dinner  of  his  forced  generosity,  he  told 
what  he  had  done.  The  sexton  of  the  abbey  applauded 
the  act,  expressing  a  doubt,  however,  whether  he  had  done 
altogether  wisely  in  not  limiting  the  order  to  Laurencin. 
*'  I  fear,"  said  he,  "that  your  nephew  will  take  more  than 
you  intend,  and,  instead  of  a  hundred  crowns,  you  may  have 
to  pay  for  two  thousand."  The  abbot  was  instantly  alarm- 
ed, and  despatching  his  steward  to  Laurencin,  was  con- 
founded to  learn  that  the  amount  of  Bayard's  purchases 
was  eight  hundred  francs  instead  of  one  hundred.  "  Eight 
hundred  francs!  St.  Maiy!"  exclaimed  the  reverend  fa- 
ther, as  he  received  this  intelligence.  "  Make  haste  to  his 
lodgings,"  he  cried  to  his  steward,  "  and  say  to  him  that  if 
he  does  not  instantly  restore  to  Laurencin  what  he  hath 
taken,  he  shall  never  be  the  better  by  another  franc  of  mine." 

But  our  friends  had  anticipated  this  mission,  and  the 
servants  were  instructed  that  none  of  the  people  of  the 
Lord  of  Esnay  were  to  find  their  way  to  the  presence  of 
their  master.  The  pages  amused  themselves,  accordingly, 
at  the  expense  of  the  messenger.  When  the  steward  asked 
for  him  in  his  own  lodgings,  he  was  reported  to  be  at  those 
of  the  Count  de  Ligny.  There,  he  is  told  that  Bayard  has 
gone  forth  beyond  the  Rhone  to  try  his  horses ;  and  thus, 
until  he  was  weary,  the  steward  was  kept  passing  to  and 
fro  between  the  angry  abbot,  his  master,  and  the  house- 
hold of  the  offending  nephew.  Very  solemn  then  was  the 
oath  of  the  former  that  the  boy  should  repent  of  his  wicked- 
ness. The  Clime  of  defrauding  the  church  of  its  revenues 
might  well,  by  an  abbot,  be  held  as  an  unpardonable  one. 
He  did  not  pardon  the  offence,  and  not  another  copper  of 
his  money  found  its  way  to  the  purse  of  the  offender. 

Bayard  shared  his  livres  equally  with  Bellabre.  Their 
friendship  hitherto  had  been  such  that  they  partook  without 
scruple  of  each  other's  goods.  Two  horses  were  bought 
between  them  for  the  tourney,  the  day  assigned  for  which 


28  THE    TOURNEY. 

was  rapidly  approaching.  An  interval  of  three  days  was 
busily  employed  in  preparations — in  going  through  the 
hands  of  the  tailor,  in  choosing  and  fitting  armor,  and  dec- 
orating, in  the  customary  style  of  the  times,  the  persons 
of  horse  and  rider.  The  tourney  took  place  on  Mon- 
day, the  20th  July,  1494.  The  pubHc  and  private  prep- 
arations were  such  as  to  draw  together  numerous  specta- 
tors. The  lists  were  duly  set  in  order.  Place  was  assigned 
to  the  king  and  courtiers,  the  noblesse,  and  the  citizens, 
and  the  ladies  of  Lyons  made  no  inferior  part  of  the  im- 
posing spectacle.  The  knight,  Claude  de  Vaudray,  the 
challenger,  was  the  first  person  to  make  his  appearance  in 
the  field.  He  was  encountered,  in  order,  as  the  names  of 
the  champions  had  been  enrolled,  by  many  gallant  gentle- 
men of  the  court  and  of  the  royal  army.  There  were  the 
Seneschal  Galiot — who  proved  himself  an  expert  cavalier, — 
the  young  Bonnival,  Sandri court,  Chastillon,  Bourdillon,  all 
intimates  of  the  king,  and  many  others,  all  doing  their  best, 
and  all  more  or  less  creditably.  To  stimulate  the  spirit  of  the 
combatants,  one  of  the  rules  of  the  tourney  was,  that  each 
champion,  afl;er  he  had  run  his  course,  should  be  conducted 
round  the  lists,  that  he  might  receive  the  plaudits  of  the  spec- 
tators. Such  a  proceeding  would  naturally  prompt  the  am- 
bition of  the  cavalier  to  the  utmost  exertion  of  his  powers. 
The  time  at  length  came  for  Bayard  to  make  his  appear- 
ance in  the  lists.  He  was  at  this  time  not  yet  eighteen 
years  of  age,  had  not  attained  his  full  growth,  was  tall  and 
spare  of  form,  and  of  delicate  complexion.  His  boyish  as- 
pect and  person,  in  spite  of  his  manly  bearing,  awakened 
the  sympathy,  rather  than  the  expectations,  of  the  specta- 
tors. It  was  known  that  he  had  to  do  with  one  of  the  most 
experienced  and  vigorous  of  living  knights.  But  Bayard 
was  of  rare  agility,  and  possessed,  what  was  not  apparent 
to  the  eye,  a  degree  of  sinewy  strength  and  well-developed 
muscle,  which  were  not  common  to  his  years.  He  com- 
menced rudely,  we  are  told,  abashed  most  probably  by  the 


bayard's  first  triumph.  29 

novelty  of  the  situation,  and  somewhat  tremulous  from  the 
excited  desires  of  his  own  heart.  But  he  soon  recovered 
all  his  grace  and  courage,  and  the  issue  furnished  a  suffi- 
cient sanction  for  his  audacity.  "  How  it  happened,"  re- 
marks the  quaint  old  chronicler  from  which  we  translate, 
"  I  can  not  tell ;  whether  it  was  that  God  willed  that  he 
should  have  the  glory,  or  that  Messire  Claude  de  Vaudray 
was  pleased  to  forbear  somewhat  in  consideration  of  his 
youth ;  but  there  was  no  man  in  the  whole  course  of  the 
tourney,  whether  on  horse  or  foot,  who  performed  his  de- 
voir better  than  he,  or  indeed  quite  so  well !"  And  this  was 
the  opinion  of  all  the  spectators — an  opinion  which  the  fair 
ladies  of  Lyons  did  not  hesitate  to  avow  with  the  frankness 
of  hearts  delighting  in  deeds  of  gallantry.  When  it  came 
to  Bayard's  turn  to  make  the  round  of  the  lists,  they 
awarded  him,  in  their  Lyonese  tongue,  the  highest  honors 
of  the  day — "  Vey  vos  cesteu  malotru  !  il  a  mieux  fay  que 
tous  los  autrosT  "See  you  this  awkward  lad — he  hath  done 
better  than  all  the  others  !"  Nor  was  this  opinion  confined  to 
the  Lyonese  ladies ;  the  courtiers  were  quite  as  much  pleased 
with  his  performance.  The  king  said  at  supper,  "  Piquet 
hath  made  a  fine  beginning  ;  in  my  belief  he  will  go  on  to  a 
good  end ; — cousin" — to  the  Lord  of  Ligny — "  I  never  made 
you  a  better  present  in  my  life,  than  when  I  gave  you  that 
boy."  To  which  the  count  answered,  "  Sire,  it  will  be 
more  to  your  profit  than  mine  if  he  becomes  a  man  of 
merit.  It  is  your  commendation  that  hath  made  him  un- 
dertake so  nobly."  He  added,  "  There  is  one,  however, 
who  takes  no  pleasure  in  his  performances — his  uncle,  the 
Abbot  of  Esnay.  He  alone  looks  reprovingly  at  the  course 
which  brings  such  pleasure  to  us  ;"  and  the  count  proceed- 
ed to  tell  the  story  of  the  unlimited  order,  the  eight  hundred 
crowns  for  which  our  two  friends  had  assessed  the  reverend 
father,  and  of  his  unavailing  dunning  through  the  medium 
of  the  steward ; — a  story  which  provoked  king  and  courtiers 
to  a  very  hearty  fit  of  laughter. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

This  successful  initial  passage-at-arms  led  to  the  promo- 
tion of  our  hero.  Some  short  time  after  the  event,  he  was 
called  into  the  presence  of  the  Count  de  Ligny,  who  said  to 
him,  "Piquet,  my  friend,  you  have  begun  your  careei 
happily.  We  shall  have  more  war,  and  I  will  put  you  into 
my  company,  with  an  allowance  of  three  hundred  crowns 
a-year,  and  three  horses.  You  will  still  hold  your  place  in 
my  household,  but  will  now  go  to  the  garrison  and  see  your 
comrades.  You  will  find  them  as  gallant  a  set  of  fellows 
as  there  are  in  Christendom.  They  will  give  you  sufficient 
exercise  in  arms,  as  they  constantly  hold  joust  and  tourney, 
to  win  honor  and  the  favor  of  the  ladies.  You  will  be  bet- 
ter thus,  exercising  with  them,  until  we  are  actually  re- 
quired to  take  the  field." 

No  intimation  could  have  been  more  agreeable  to  our 
young  knight  than  this.  His  blood  bounded  for  the  exer- 
cises of  which  his  recent  taste  had  been  so  pleasant  and 
honorable.  He  acknowledged  with  gratitude  the  bounty 
and  kindness  of  his  superior,  and  declared  his  perfect  satis- 
faction with  the  disposition  which  was  made  of  him.  His 
eagerness  was  such  that  he  avowed  his  desire  to  depart 
without  delay,  and  the  count  was  willing  that  he  should  do 
so,  but  first  announced  to  him  that  he  should  take  leave  of 
the  king.  Charles  had  just  risen  from  dinner  as  they  came 
into  his  presence.  "  Sire,"  said  the  count,  "  here  is  your 
Piquet.  He  is  about  to  join  his  comrades  in  Picardy, 
and  comes  to  take  leave  of  you."  The  graceful  ease,  and 
manly  but  respectful  manner  with  which  Bayard  made  his 
obeisance,  was  particularly  pleasing  to  the  king;  and  he 


BAYARD    GOES    INTO    GARRISON.  31 

said  to  the  young  soldier,  with  a  smile,  "Piquet,  my  friend, 
may  God  keep  you  as  you  have  begun,  and  you  will  be  a 
noble  gentleman  You  go  to  a  country  where  the  ladies 
are  very  charming;  you  must  be  sure  to  exert  yourself 
and  win  their  favor.     Adieu,  my  friend,  adieu." 

Taking  leave  of  the  princes  and  noblesse,  he  was  honored 
with  their  embraces.  All  of  them  expressed  regret  at  losing 
him  from  court :  he  himself  felt  but  little  ;  his  heait  yearned 
for  the  more  stirring  military  career  to  which  he  was  des- 
tined, and  he  was  impatient  to  be  gone.  It  does  not  ap- 
pear at  this  time  that  he  remembered  the  sweet  damsel  of 
the  Duchess  of  Savoy,  to  whom  he  had  so  vainly  paid  his 
vows.  He  had  probably  begun  to  perceive  the  wisdom  of 
her  counsel.  A  new  world  had  opened  upon  him,  and  a 
more  enlarged  ambition.  New  excitements  of  a  more  im- 
perious nature  had  seized  upon  his  imagination,  and  in  the 
more  various  aspects  of  society,  to  which  he  had  recently  be- 
come familiar,  the  force  of  his  boy-passion  might  well  be 
subdued.  That  it  was  not  eradicated,  however,  we  have 
reason  to  know  from  the  progress  of  this  history.  But  we 
must  reserve  these  matters  for  the  period  when  they  shall 
more  properly  appear.  Enough,  that  he  still  retained  in 
his  bosom  the  impression  of  an  attachment  which  he  yet 
concealed  from  sight  beneath  the  cuirass.  It  was  through 
the  ranks  of  war  that  he  was  to  cleave  his  way  to  love,  or 
avoid  its  dangers.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  loved  his 
profession,  and  detested  a  life  of  sloth.  His  eye,  trained 
from  infancy  to  contemplate  the  eagle  career  of  his  ancestors, 
had  made  this  career  a  part  of  each  desire  in  his  soul.  It 
was  his  duty  to  become  a  wanior,  a  knight  brave  and  gen- 
tle, conquering  all  foes  by  deeds  of  arms,  all  hearts  by  deeds 
of  loveliness  and  gi'ace. 

It  was  not  his  "  adieus"  alone  that  Charles  bestowed  upon 
his  youthful  soldier.  Just  before  his  departure,  a  purse  of 
three  hundred  crowns  was  brought  him  from  the  monarch, 
with  one  of  the  finest  horses  from  his  stables.     To  those 


32  COUNSEL    OF    DE    LIGNY. 

about  him  he  bestowed  freely  of  the  money,  while,  in  the 
courser,  he  beheld  a  token  not  less  of  what  was  expected 
at  his  hands,  than  of  the  favor  of  his  master.  His  parting 
with  the  Count  de  Ligny  was  serious  and  impressive.  This 
nobleman  had  learned  to  love  the  boy,  as  if  he  were  his 
own  son.  He  brought  him  to  his  lodgings  and  gave  him  a 
world  of  counsel,  affectionately  urged  and  expressed.  "  It 
is  a  false  notion,  Piquet,"  he  remarked,  "  that  the  life  of 
the  soldier  confers  upon  us  the  right  to  forget  God  and  re- 
ligion. There  is  nothing  in  our  profession  which  is  incom- 
patible with  a  becoming  devotion.  God  expects  not  from 
us,  indeed,  the  same  continued  meditation  and  frequent 
prayer,  the  rigorous  penances  and  long  abstinences  which 
are  practiced  by  the  professed  religious  in  the  life  of  the 
cloister ;  but  there  is  nothing  in  our  duties  to  prevent  our 
love  of  God,  our  obedience  to  his  will,  and  fear  of  his  an- 
ger. These,  with  the  exercise  of  charity,  are  virtues  in  all 
human  conditions.  Keep  these  always  active  in  your  soul, 
for  without  these  even  that  sentiment  of  honor  which  you 
have  received  from  your  ancestors  would  be  of  little  lasting 
value  or  account.  It  is  only  proper  when  coupled  with  the 
fear  and  love  of  God.  I  pray  you  to  respect  the  priest- 
hood— their  profession  not  less  than  their  persons.  Yield 
not  to  any  evil  example  of  your  comrades,  when  they  would 
make  a  mock  of  these  honorable  men.  Priests  are  like 
other  men.  Piquet ;  they  have  their  weaknesses,  and  may 
have  their  vices,  but  they  endure  many  provocations,  and 
these  should  make  us  indulgent  to  their  faults.  See  them 
in  the  cottage  of  the  poor,  at  the  bed  of  the  dying,  and 
close  by  the  side  of  the  cnminal  who  is  marching  to  his 
doom.  The  merit  which  the  brave  soldier  acquires  in  the 
day  of  battle  is  not  very  unlike  to  that  which  the  man  of 
God  obtains  every  day  of  his  life.  His  life,  indeed,  is  one 
long  combat  and  victory,  and  this,  too,  without  any  of  that 
glory  and  applause  which  mortal  honor  brings  to  compen- 
sate those  who  toil  bravely  in  her  behalf.     Think  of  these 


PARTING    OF    THE    FRIENDS.  33 

things,  my  son,  and  they  will  secure  you  equally  the  favor 
of  God  and  man.  But  the  hour  wears,  and  you  have 
need  of  sleep,  as  you  will  depart  early  in  the  morning. 
As  you  will  leave  before  I  rise,  you  must  take  my  farewell 
to-night.     Go,  my  son,  and  may  God  conduct  you  always." 

The  lessons  of  chivalry,  from  teachers  such  as  the  Lord 
of  Ligny,  were  not  unworthy  of  the  pretensions  of  the  or- 
der, in  its  most  noble  and  honorable  periods.  Tears  filled 
the  eyes  of  Bayard  as  he  listened,  and  he  answered  with  the 
affectionate  respect  of  one  whose  gratitude  was  equally 
warm  and  without  constraint.  He  retired  to  his  own  lodg- 
ings escorted  by  his  young  companions,  by  all  of  whom  he 
was  honored  and  beloved.  They  did  not  part  from  him 
without  many  embraces.  Having  reached  his  chamber,  he 
found  the  tailors  of  the  Count  de  Ligny  awaiting  him  with 
two  complete  suits  of  clothes,  the  gift  of  that  nobleman. 
"  Give  my  thanks  to  my  lord,"  said  the  youth,  "  for  this  and 
the  many  favors  he  hath  conferred  upon  me,  none  of  which 
have  I  deserved."  Twenty  crowns  rewarded  the  bearer 
of  the  gift,  and  ten  crowns  were  left  for  the  groom  who 
brought  his  courser.  The  night  was  half  spent  before  he 
laid  himself  down  to  rest,  and  he  slept  but  little.  He  was 
about  to  enter  the  great  world,  to  begin  a  life  of  independ- 
ent action,  a  boy  no  longer,  and  among  new  comrades. 
He  rose  with  the  dawn,  and  sent  off  his  baggage  and 
horses.  Of  these  he  had  six  of  a  large  size,  suitable  for  use 
in  actual  war,  and  five  or  six  more,  of  smaller  size,  for  ordi- 
nary purposes.  His  friend  Bellabre  accompanied  him  as 
far  as  Brele,  where  they  dined,  and  parted.  Their  separa- 
tion was  not  a  sad  one,  as  it  was  understood  that  the  for- 
mer, as  soon  as  he  received  certain  horses  which  were  on 
their  way  from  Spain,  would  follow  fast  upon  his  footsteps. 

Our  hero  traveled  by  short  stages,  for  the  better  ti^eat- 
ment  of  his  horses,  several  of  which  were  led.  Arrived 
within  a  few  leagues  of  the  town  of  Aire,  he  sent  forward 
one  of  his  people  to  look  for  lodgings.     His  reputation  had 


34  TARDIEU,    A    GOOD    COMPANION. 

gone  before  him,  and  when  it  was  known  to  his  future 
companions  that  he  was  approaching,  more  than  six-and- 
twenty  of  their  number  came  forth  to  meet  him  and  form 
his  escort.  These  were  all  sons  of  noblemen,  or  of  noble 
family.  They  were  curious  to  see  the  youth  who  had  dared 
cross  lances  with  Claude  de  Vaudray,  and  of  whose  equal 
skill,  courage  and  modesty  they  had  already  heard  so 
much.  Their  welcome  was  joyous,  and  the  approach  to 
Aire  was  that  of  a  triumph.  The  ladies,  too,  had  heard 
of  our  hero,  and  the  windows  were  thronged  as  the  gay 
cavalcade  rode  through  the  streets.  Escorted  to  his  lodg- 
ings by  his  comrades,  some  of  them  remained  with  him  to 
supper.  He  found  them  a  merry  set,  fond  of  pleasure,  but 
without  the  means  to  indulge  their  passion  to  much  ex- 
tent. They  questioned  him  freely  as  to  his  resources,  and 
were  delighted  to  find  that  he  had  more  money  than  them- 
selves. His  passage-at-arms  in  the  tourney  occupied  their 
conversation  to  such  a  degree,  and  their  applauses  were  so 
lavish,  as  somewhat  to  disquiet  and  abash  our  modest  hero. 
They  could  not  beguile  him  into  a  forgetfulness  of  his  hu- 
mility, and,  without  any  transports,  he  replied — "  There  is 
nothing  yet  to  praise  me  for,  my  friends ;  but,  please  the 
Lord,  with  your  good  help,  I  may  do  something  hereafter 
to  do  me  credit  among  persons  of  merit." 

Among  his  new  companions  was  one  named  Tardieu,  a 
lively  fellow,  full  of  humor,  and  fond  of  gayety.  "  Com- 
rade," said  he  to  Bayard,  "  I  must  tell  you  that  the  ladies 
of  this  town  are  the  handsomest  in  all  Picardy,  and  by  the 
way,  your  hostess,  whom  you  have  not  seen,  is  one  of  the 
prettiest  among  them.  She  is  now  absent,  gone  to  the  wed- 
ding of  a  niece.  You  will  see  her  to-morrow,  and  see  that 
what  I  tell  you  is  the  truth.  Now,  as  you  can  not  have 
come  to  keep  gamson  without  a  well-filled  purse,  you  must 
do  something  with  it  to  please  the  ladies.  You  must 
maintain  your  reputation  by  worthy  actions.  It  is  a  long 
time  since  we  have  had  a  tourney  here.     You  must  give 


PREPARATIONS    FOR    A    TOURNEY.  35 

one,  to  take  place  in  the  next  eight  days.    Wliat  say  you  1 
Come,  do  not  deny  me  the  first  favor  that  I  ask." 

The  proposition  no  ways  displeased  our  man-at-arms. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  there  was  nothing  in  the  sug- 
gestion of  Tardieu  that  did  not  comport  with  the  customs 
of  the  time  and  country.  The  tourney  was  the  proper  ex- 
ercise for  the  young  warrior  in  seasons  of  repose,  by  which 
he  kept  up  a  knowledge  of  the  aits  which  he  had  acquired, 
and  prepared  himself  for  future  exigency.  Bayard  replied 
to  Tardieu  precisely  as  he  wished.  *'  Had  you  asked  for 
a  greater  matter,  I  could  not  have  refused  you.  This 
proposition  is  quite  as  pleasing  to  me  as  to  you.  Send  me 
the  trumpet  to-morrow,  and,  with  the  captain's  leave,  we 
will  give  the  necessary  notice."  This  captain  was  one 
who  had  acquired  the  highest  reputation  in  the  armies  of 
France.  He  was  one  of  the  most  famous  of  his  time. 
His  name  was  Louis  D'Ars,  fi-om  Dauphiny  also,  the  kms- 
man  and  neighbor  of  Bayard.  Tardieu,  who  knew  him 
well,  replied — "  Doubt  not  that  we  shall  have  leave  in  this 
business  from  our  captain,  as  we  contemplate  nothing  evil. 
He  is  now  absent,  but  will  return  in  four  days.  If  there 
be  blame,  let  it  rest  on  me."  Bayard  yielded  his  scruples 
without  reluctance.  He  remembered  the  injunctions  of  the 
king  and  Count  de  Ligny  to  be  sure  and  please  the  ladies, 
and  the  lessons  of  chivalry  taught  no  better  process  than 
by  deeds  of  arms  in  the  tournament.  When  Tardieu  ap- 
peared the  next  morning,  bringing  the  trumpeter,  our  young 
knight  was  ready  for  him.  He  had  scarcely  slept  that 
night.  Wearied  as  he  had  been  by  the  travel  of  the  day, 
and  kept  up  by  his  comrades  to  a  late  hour,  the  pleasing 
excitement  occasioned  by  the  suggestion  of  Tardieu,  had 
totally  baffled  the  approach  of  slumber.  His  visitor 
scarcely  paused  to  give  him  the  good-day,  when  he  re- 
minded him  of  his  promise,  and  introduced  the  trumpeter. 
"  No  excuse,"  said  he  ;  "  here's  your  man,  and  now  for  the 
ordinance."     To  his  surprise,  the  proclamation  was  ready 


36  THE    CHALLENGE    TO    ALL-COMERS. 

to  his  hand.  Bayard,  who  was  well  versed  in  the  laws 
and  practices  of  chivalry,  had  employed  his  sleepless  hours 
in  devising  the  courses  and  preparing  the  publication  of  the 
tourney.  The  paper  was  already  written  out  in  a  fair 
hand,  and  ready  for  exhibition.  His  heart  was  in  the 
scheme,  though,  but  for  Tardieu,  he  would  scarcely  have 
conceived  it  at  so  early  a  day.  He  would  have  waited 
until  his  acquaintance  with  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of 
Picardy  had  somewhat  ripened  into  familiarity. 

His  comrade  perused  the  document  with  unconcealed 
delight.     It  ran  thus  : 

*'  Pierre  de  Bayard,  young  gentleman  and  novice  in 
arms,  a  native  of  Dauphiny,  and  one  of  the  king's  men-at- 
arms,  in  charge  of,  and  under  conduct  of  the  high  and  puis- 
sant lord,  Count  de  Ligny,  hath  caused  a  tourney  to  be 
cried  and  published  within  and  without  the  town  of  Aire, 
to  take  place  on  the  twentieth  day  of  July ;  to  consist  of 
three  strokes  of  the  lance,  without  lists,  and  twelve  of  the 
sword,  with  edged  weapons,  in  armor  of  war,  on  horse- 
back; and  the  whole  in  good  earnest.  To  him  who  does 
best  his  devoir,  shall  be  given  a  golden  bracelet,  of  the 
weight  of  thirty  grains,  enamelled  with  his  own  device. 
The  day  following  is  appointed  for  a  combat  on  foot,  at  the 
point  of  the  lance,  and  within  lists  as  high  as  a  man's  waist. 
The  lance  being  shivered,  the  fight  to  be  followed  up  with 
strokes  of  the  battle-ax,  at  the  discretion  of  the  judges,  and 
of  those  who  keep  the  field.  To  him  who  does  best  in  this 
combat  shall  be  awarded  a  diamond  of  forty  crowns  value." 

The  terms  of  the  combat,  "  a  fer  esmoulu^^  shows  that  no 
child's  play  was  intended.  Our  hero  styles  himself,  mod- 
estly, a  novice  in  arms ;  he  was  soon  to  prove  himself  a  pro- 
fessor.    Tardieu  was  delighted  as   he  read.     "  By  , 

comrade,"  he  exclaimed,  "  not  Launcelot,  nor  Tristrem,  nor 
Gawaine,  could  have  done  better."  We  have  not  said  that 
the  early  education  of  Bayard  was  rather  better  than  was 
common  to  his  order  in  that  day  j  and,  before  he  left  school 


PROSPECTS    OP   ^HE    TOURNEY.  37 

he  had  learned  to  write  a  gi-aceful  hand,  and  to  express 
himself  with  simplicity  and  clearness.  "  Go,"  cried  the 
eager  Tardieu,  to  the  trumpeter — "  go,  cry  this  tourney 
through  the  town,  and  from  garrison  to  garrison,  for  the 
space  of  three  days,  that  all  the  lovers  of  good  deeds  may 
have  knowledge  thereof."  And  this  said,  and  the  trumpet- 
er dismissed,  he  turned  to  the  young  knight,  and  renewed 
his  congi-atulations.  The  prizes,  though  seemingly  small, 
were  in  that  day  considerable ;  and  they  were  to  be  paid 
out  of  Bayard's  purse.  We  are  to  understand  that  the 
purse  of  a  man-at-arms,  in  time  of  peace,  was  never  likely 
to  be  burdensome  ;  and  the  liberality  which  our  hero  dis- 
played in  the  ready  acquiescence  which  he  gave  to  the 
somewhat  expensive  suggestion  of  Tardieu,  proved  to  all 
parties  that  he  was  not  more  brave  than  unselfish.  It  was 
one  of  the  noble  virtues  in  the  character  of  Bayard,  that  he 
valued  money  only  in  regard  to  the  power  which  it  gave 
him  of  being  useful  to  his  friends  and  followers. 

A  single  fact  will  show  the  somewhat  bold  character  of 
this  challenge.  There  were  at  this  time  in  garason  in 
Picardy  some  eight  hundred  men-at-arms,  many  of  whom 
were  long  practised  and  experienced  soldiers.  There  were 
the  companies  of  Marshal  des  Cordes,  Philippe  de  Creve- 
cceur,  one  of  the  Scotch,  and  one  of  the  celebrated  Lord  de 
la  Palisse.  There  was  certainly  a  wide  range  of  adversaries 
for  the  challenger,  and  it  might  reasonably  be  expected  that, 
of  so  many  warriors,  and  so  many  who  were  distinguished, 
there  would  be  no  lack  of  combatants  ;  and  there  was  not. 
Bayard's  own  captain,  Louis  d'Ars,  returned,  in  the  mean 
while,  and  gladly  gave  his  sanction  to  the  tournament. 
Bayard  promptly  waited  upon  him,  and  tendered  his  re- 
spects. He  was  received  with  many  affectionate  caresses. 
The  brave  men  of  that  day  were  always  glad  to  enroll 
among  their  followers  every  person  who  promised  to  do 
honor  to  their  commands.  To  complete  the  happiness  of 
our  young  knight,  his  friend  Bellabre  anived  in  season  for 

D 


38  THE   TOURNEY. 

the  fete.  It  had  been  scarcely  satisfactory  without  him. 
The  days  pending  the  toumey  were  passed  in  becoming 
preparation.  The  young  soldiers  practised  daily  with  steed 
and  weapon ;  and  their  military  exercises  were  reHeved  by 
frequent  parties,  given  to  the  ladies,  in  which  love  and  gal- 
lantry suggested  the  materials  of  conversation,  and  the  dance 
was  closed  with  the  banquet.  In  these  courtly  pastimes, 
our  young  knight  was  the  observed  of  all  obsei'vers.  The 
ladies,  who  were  not  those  of  the  town  only,  but  of  the 
surrounding  country  also,  were  never  weary  in  his  praise. 
His  grace  of  bearing,  the  modesty  of  his  discourse,  and  his 
frank  and  generous  spirit,  won  for  him  applauses  which 
they  bestowed  upon  no  other  of  his  comrades ;  and  their 
praises  were  redoubled  when  it  was  found  that  none  of  the 
favors  which  he  received  had  filled  his  heart  with  pride. 
In  the  enjoyment  of  the  smiles  of  the  ladies,  he  neither  for- 
got himself  nor  them.  It  is  thus  that  merit,  when  combined 
with  modesty,  bewitches  all  the  world.  The  envious 
themselves  will  forget  the  superiority  which  they  are  never 
required  to  acknowledge. 

The  day  appointed  for  the  tourney  came  at  last,  and  our 
little  world  of  Aire  was  in  gi'eat  and  pleasant  commotion. 
There  was  no  faltering  among  the  combatants,  all  of  whom 
were  promptly  mustered  into  opposing  ranks.  Every  prep- 
aration had  been  made,  that  the  spectacle  should  be  a  brill- 
iant one.  The  knights  were  in  their  gayest  caparison  ;  and 
the  ladies  who  looked  on,  whose  favors  they  wore,  and 
whose  smiles  and  cheers  encouraged  them,  were  never 
more  solicitous  in  the  display  of  their  choicest  fashions. 
The  judges  of  the  field  were  Captain  Louis  d'Ars  and  the 
Lord  of  St.  Quentin.  The  trumpets  sounded,  and  forty- 
six  combatants  appeared  in  armor,  and  on  horseback. 
They  were  divided  into  two  equal  bodies.  The  second 
peal  of  the  trumpets  announced  the  beginning  of  the  tour- 
ney. At  this  signal.  Bayard  was  the  first  to  present  him- 
self.   He  was  opposed  by  Aymon  de  Salvaign,  lord  of  Bois- 


FIRST    PASSAGE   WITH   tHE   LORD    OF    BOISSIEU.        39 

sieu,  whose  surname  was  Tartarin,  as  that  of  Bayard  was 
Piquet.  This  gentleman  was  of  an  illustrious  house,  of 
Dauphiny,  and  from  our  young  knight's  own  neighbor- 
hood. He  was  known  to  be  veiy  formidable  in  the  use 
of  his  weapons.  The  charge  was  sounded  ;  and,  as  they 
mshed  together,  the  encounter  of  the  passage  was  so  keen 
as  to  shiver  both  lances  ;  that  of  Boissieu  breaking  off  near 
the  head,  at  the  junction  of  the  iron  with  the  wood,  while 
that  of  Bayard,  smiting  the  top  of  the  great  vantbrace,  was 
broken  into  several  pieces.  It  was  a  marvellous  fine  pass- 
age, and  the  trumpets  sounded  furiously,  as  if  in  emulation 
of  the  opposing  champions.  The  first  course  accomplished, 
they  prepared  for  the  second  with  fresh  spirit  and  new  lances. 
Again  they  rushed  together,  and  the  charge  was  not  less 
beautiful  than  before.  In  this  passage,  it  was  the  fortune  of 
Boissieu  to  pierce  the  vantbrace  of  Bayard  about  the  elbow. 
It  was  thought  by  all  that  the  arm  had  been  wounded  ;  but 
this  was  a  mistake.  The  spear  of  our  knight  smote  his  ad- 
versary above  his  visor,  and  bore  away  the  chaplet  of 
feathers  from  his  helm.  Once  more  the  joy  of  trumpets, 
and  the  two  champions,  who  had  sufficiently  convinced  all 
spectators  of  their  skill  and  spirit,  gave  place  to  other  com- 
batants. 

The  next  who  succeeded  were  Bellabre,  our  knight's 
fiiend,  and  a  Scottish  gentleman,  a  captain  in  the  French 
service,  named  David  de  Fougas.  They  fractured  their 
opposing  lances  with  admirable  success,  and  gave  way  to 
other  parties;  and  thus,  two  by  two,  until  the  courses  had 
been  run  by  all  the  combatants.  The  conflict  of  the  lance 
was  followed  by  that  of  the  sword.  The  foe  who  en- 
countered our  young  knight  with  this  weapon  is  not  men- 
tioned ;  but  the  sword  of  Bayard  was  shivered  at  the  first 
collision.*      But  this  did  not   seem  to  lessen,  but  rather 

■*  Some  say  the  third,  but  we  prefer  to  follow  his  secretary,  "  the  loyal 
servant,"  who  says  the  first.  The  matter,  fortunately,  is  of  no  great  im- 
portance. 


40  AFTER    THE    TOURNEY.   • 

aroused  him  to  the  exercise  of  all  his  powers  of  defence. 
So  well  did  he  continue  the  conflict  with  the  fragment  re- 
maining in  his  grasp,  that  his  opponent  failed  to  gain  any 
advantage  from  the  mishap  which  seemed  so  decidedly  to 
give  it  him.  The  prescribed  number  of  blows  having  been 
given,  without  damage,  these  adversaries  were  made  to 
give  place  to  others.  And  thus  the  day  passed  as  joyously 
as  it  had  begun.  There  was  nothing  to  impair  the  gayety 
of  the  assemblage.  The  spectators  were  all  agreed  that 
better  play,  whether  with  lance  or  sword,  had  never  been 
shown.  All  had  done  well  and  were  honored,  but  the 
palm  of  excellence  was  borne  away  confessedly,  first,  by  our 
young  knight,  and  then  by  Bellabre,  Boissieu,  Captain 
David  of  Fougas,  and  our  pleasant  comrade,  Tardieu. 

The  supper  and  the  dance  followed  at  the  lodgings  of 
Bayard,  where  the  ladies  were  sumptuously  entertained, 
and  the  approach  of  midnight  found  nobody  tired.  But 
they  did  not  fancy  such  late  hours  then  as  they  do  at  mod- 
em parties.  The  ladies,  many  of  whom  had  come  from  a 
distance  of  ten  miles,  had  to  seek  lodgings  for  the  night ; 
and  the  young  gallants  saw  them  safely  home,  just  as  they 
do  now,  in  less  chivalrous  seasons.  It  was  late  the  next 
day  before  they  had  risen,  and  then,  we  are  told,  they 
were  never  weary  of  commending  our  good  knight,  who, 
for  prowess  in  arms  and  courtesy,  was  not  thought  by  them 
to  have  his  equal  in  the  world. 

But  the  sports  were  not  over,  and  some  of  the  details  of 
the  next  day  may  well  be  recorded  in  illustration  of  the 
manners  of  the  time.  The  champions,  with  Bayard  at  their 
head,  repaired  at  an  early  hour  to  the  house  of  their  cap- 
tain, to  make  their  respects,  and  to  entreat  him  to  honor 
them  with  his  presence  at  a  dinner,  to  which  the  Lord  of 
St.  Quentin  and  other  noblemen  were  invited  also.  There 
they  were  to  meet  vnth  the  ladies  whom  they  had  found  so 
agreeable  the  night  befol'e — and  this,  we  must  remember, 
was  at  the  lodgings  of  our  bachelor,  and  he  but  eigh- 


CUSTOMS    OP    CHIVALRY.  41 

teen  years  of  age.  We  find  it  difficult  in  out:  day  to  under- 
stand the  singular  blending  of  so  much  humility,  in  some 
respects,  in  the  training  of  the  youth,  with  so  much  confi- 
dence and  boldness,  in  other  regards,  which  seems  to  have 
been  encouraged  in  them  and  looked  for  at  their  hands. 
There  was  then  no  indecorum  in  the  damsel  visiting  the 
young  knight,  and  supping  at  his  lodgings ;  for  it  was  the 
lesson  of  that  day,  that  the  maiden  might  properly  dress  the 
wounds  of  the  cavalier,  though  there  were  no  ties  of  blood 
between  them. 

The  invitation  of  Bayard  was  accepted,  and  the  whole 
party  then  proceeded  to  hear  mass ;  after  which,  bestowing 
themselves  upon  the  ladies,  they  escorted  them  to  the  lodg- 
ings of  our  young  knight,  discoursing  by  the  way  of  love, 
and  all  those  various  pleasant  fancies,  through  the  medium 
of  which  the  young  heart  declares  an  instinct  as  certainly 
as  a  sentiment.  The  entertainment  of  the  day  was  not  less 
grateful  to  the  company  than  that  of  the  preceding  night. 
The  dinner  of  Bayard  was  pronounced  to  be  quite  as  ex- 
cellent as  his  supper ;  and  he  himself  was  constantly  found  to 
improve  upon  acquaintance.  But  the  dinner  of  that  period 
was  not  the  prolonged  festival — the  tour  of  duty — which 
we  have  made  it ;  and  it  took  place  comparatively  at  an 
early  hour.  Nor  could  the  repast  itself  have  been  of  that 
weighty  and  benumbing  character  which  it  commonly 
proves  with  us,  denying  all  but  moderate  exercise  after  it 
has  been  discussed.  On  this  occasion,  when  our  young 
soldiers  rose  from  table,  it  was  to  resume  their  places  in  the 
tournament.  The  order  of  the  second  day  was  to  be  per- 
formed, and  expectations  were  not  less  high  among  the 
champions  themselves  and  the  spectatoi-s  than  on  the  day 
before.  The  tilt  was  begun  by  Bayard  in  the  usual  man- 
ner. The  knight  who  came  against  him,  in  this  new  en- 
counter, was  one  Hanotin  de  Sucre,  a  gentleman  of  Hai- 
nault,  who  had  a  high  reputation  for  bravery.  He  did  not 
discredit  his  renown.     So  fiercely  did  the  adversaries  rush 


42  CLOSE    OF    THE    TOURNEY. 

to  the  encoui^er,  and  so  well  did  they  aim  their  lances, 
that  both  spears  shivered  in  the  charge.  These  were  flung 
aside,  and  the  combat  was  resumed  with  the  battle-ax,  hon- 
estly, after  the  terms  of  the  challenge,  a  fer  esmoulu,  in 
downright  earnest.  The  combat  threatened  to  be  a  mortal 
one ;  many  were  the  strokes  given  and  received ;  heavy, 
hard  blows  on  helm  and  cuirass,  which  the  champions  baf- 
fled, as  well  as  they  might,  with  all  their  skill,  and  bore  with 
all  their  fortitude.  For  some  time  the  parties  fought  with 
pretty  equal  success,  but  finally  our  young  knight  suc- 
ceeded in  planting  an  ugly  blow  upon  the  ear  of  his  oppo- 
nent, under  which  he  staggered  and  sunk  upon  his  knees. 
Still  seeming  to  offer  fight,  Bayard,  with  a  second  blow, 
made  him  fairly  kiss  the  earth  ;  a  feat  which  he  performed 
so  unwillingly  that  the  judges  of  the  field  came  to  his  re- 
lief, with  the  cry,  "  Halloo  !  halloo  !  enough !  Let  them 
retire !" 

Bellabre  followed,  in  an  encounter  with  one  Amaulton 
de  Pierreforade,  a  gentleman  of  Gascony,  according  to  the 
prescribed  routine,  and  taking  to  their  battle-axes  when 
their  lances  were  splintered.  Then  came  our  jovial 
friend  Tardieu,  and  Captain  David,  the  Scotchman;  and 
so  on  through  the  whole  train  of  combatants,  each  pair  in 
turn,  until  all  had  enjoyed  a  sufficient  taste  of  the  tourney. 
The  sports  of  this  day  occupied  seven  hours,  and  gave  no 
less  satisfaction  than  those  of  the  day  before.  The  fighting 
was  considered  admirable  all  round,  but  the  field  had  its 
favorites,  and  there  were  prizes  to  be  distributed.  The 
day  was  far  from  finished  when  the  champions  had  put 
off  their  armor  and  donned  more  courtly  habits.  They  as- 
sembled again  to  a  banquet  at  Bayard's  lodgings,  where 
the  ladies  were  already  waiting  them.  There,  also,  were 
the  two  judges  of  the  field,  Louis  d'Ars  and  the  Lord  of 
St.  Quentin.  The  discussion  of  die  supper  and  of  the 
merits  of  the  champions  went  on  together.  The  ladies  freely 
shared  in  both.   After  supper,  a  vote  was  taken  upon  the  sub- 


AWARD    OF    T^IIE    JUDGES.  43 

ject.  The  opinions  of  gentlemen  experienced  in  matters  of 
war  and  chivalry  were  then  demanded  by  the  judges.  These 
were  required  to  declare  themselves  upon  their  honor.  A 
similar  demand  was  made  for  the  judgment  of  the  ladies  ; 
but  they  were  required  to  pronounce  their  verdict  accord- 
ing to  their  consciences.  The  distinction  is  not  so  subtle  a 
one  but  that  we  can  easily  perceive  it  now ;  even  now, 
while  we  may  require  the  oath  of  the  man,  we  are  content 
with  the  simple  assurance  of  the  lady.  While  he  would  be 
required  to  asseverate,  we  are  satisfied  if  she  affirms.  The 
law  which  makes  the  distinction  is  one  of  courtesy,  and  in 
the  days  of  chivaliy  it  took  cognizance  of  very  subtle  mat- 
ters. The  result  of  the  discussion  was  that  all  had 
done  remarkably  well,  but  that  our  young  knight — or,  as 
he  even  then  began  to  be  called,  the  good  knight — ^had 
proved  himself  the  ablest  champion.  They  accorded  to  him 
the  prizes  of  both  days  to  distribute  as  he  thought  proper. 

The  judgment  of  the  court  was  pronounced  with  flourish 
of  trumpets  by  the  Lord  of  St.  Quentin,  who  said,  "  Gen- 
tlemen here  assembled,  especially  you  that  have  done  bat- 
tle in  this  tourney,  for  best  performance  in  which  Master 
Pierre  de  Bayard  hath  offered  prizes,  know  ye,  that  we  the 
judges  commissioned  by  you  all  to  make  the  award,  after 
having  duly  inquired  of  all  the  brave  and  honorable  gentle- 
men who  have  seen  the  fight,  and  likewise  of  all  the  noble 
ladies  here  present,  do  declare  that  each  has  played  his  part 
well,  and  with  much  credit.  But,  without  taking  from  the 
merit  of  any,  we  decree,  according  to  the  common  voice, 
that  the  Lord  of  Bayard  hath,  on  both  days,  shown  himself 
the  most  worthy  combatant,  wherefore  the  gentlemen  and 
ladies  award  to  him  the  honor  of  bestowing  the  prizes  as  he 
shall  deem  most  fit.  And  now,"  turning  to  the  young 
knight,  "bethink  you.  Lord  of  Bayard,  to  whom  you  will 
deliver  them." 

The  youth  was  quite  abashed  at  this  address,  and  re- 
mained a  brief  space  silent ;  then,  gathering  confidence,  he 


44  BAYARD    BESTOWS    THE    PRIZES. 

answered,  "  My  lord,  I  know  not  wherefore  I  should  have 
this  honor.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  are  other  knights 
who  have  better  deserved  it  than  myself.  Since,  however, 
your  decree  has  placed  the  prizes  at  my  disposal,  I  entreat 
my  companions  of  the  tourney  not  to  be  displeased  if  I 
bestow  the  prize  of  the  first  day  upon  the  Lord  of  Bellabre, 
and  that  of  the  second  upon  Captain  David  of  Fougas." 
Saying  this  he  bestowed  the  prizes.  Nobody  complained 
of  this  decision,  the  justice  of  which,  he  himself  being  no 
longer  a  party  among  the  claimants,  was  recognized  by  all. 
And  thus  finished  our  hero's  first  public  passage  in  Picardy. 
It  was  a  highly  successful  experiment,  and  lords  and  ladies 
augured  well  equally  of  a  career  which  was  so  well  begun, 
and  in  favor  of  a  character  which  continued  to  charm  the 
more,  the  more  its  noble  and  graceful  qualities  became  de- 
veloped to  his  associates.  And  this  experience  of  all,  un- 
derwent no  change  during  the  two  years  that  Bayard 
remained  in  garrison  at  this  place.  Many  were  the  tourna- 
ments that  followed,  all  graced  by  the  presence  of  the  brave 
and  fair,  and  crowned  with  the  banquet,  the  dance,  and 
other  sports  of  the  time.  In  most  of  these  he  continued  to 
bear  away  the  crown,  winning  hearts  and  prizes  together. 
His  biographers  all  agi'ee  in  ascribing  this  to  one  cause 
chiefly.  He  never  suffered  any  rivalship  in  grace  and  gener- 
osity ;  his  successes  never  made  him  forget  his  moderation, 
and  his  nice  regard  to  the  'feelings  and  the  pride  of  others. 
He  was  the  most  gracious  and  most  liberal  of  gentlemen;  he 
Was,  indeed,  the  gentle  man,  taking  the  word  as  resolved 
into  its  elements  and  in  its  time  signification.  He  shared  his 
money  to  the  last  crown  with  his  companions  ;  he  never 
saw  one  of  them  dismounted  whom  he  did  not  help  to  rise 
— ^no  small  favor,  where  the  struggling  knight  was  made 
fast  from  head  to  heels,  in  iron  garments — ^lie  was  regular 
at  his  devotions,  a  great  giver  of  alms,  and  never  withheld 
a  boon  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  bestow.  The  pure, 
sweet  lessons  of  his  mother,   as  she  yielded  him  to  the 


HIS    POPltLARITY.        •  45 

world — the  manly  and  honorable  counsels  of  the  Lord  de 
Ligny  as  he  sent  him  into  gan-ison — none  of  these  had  been 
forgotten.  He  lost  nothing  of  the  fair  blossom  of  his  youth 
in  the  opening  flower  of  his  manhood ;  and  the  two  first 
years  of  his  military  life  which  he  passed  in  Picai'dy,  while 
it  conferred  upon  him  much  of  the  knowledge  which  man- 
hood must  necessarily  acquire,  and  which  men  only  can 
impart,  still  left  him  free  from  those  degrading  vices  and 
wretched  moral  taints  which  are  but  too  often  supposed  to 
be  inseparable  from  the  sterner  training  which  one  acquires 
fi'om  the  world. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Thus,  pleasantly  enough,  and  with  great  profit  to  him- 
self, passed  the  first  two  years  of  the  military  experience 
of  our  young  knight.  His  blood  was  exhilarated,  and  his 
body  strengthened,  by  constant  muscular  exercises;  his 
person  had  expanded  into  symmetry  and  manhood;  his 
tastes  were  refined  and  elevated  by  frequent  intercourse 
with  the  other  sex;  his  heart  had  developed  the  noblest 
sensibilities,  while  his  mind  had  acquired  acuteness  and 
vigor,  leading  him  to  pi'ompt  combinations  of  thought,  to  a 
wonderful  soundness  in  the  formation  of  opinions,  and  to  con- 
clusions which  were  equally  correct  and  rapid.  These  re- 
sources of  intellect  and  person  were  now  to  be  put  to  use 
in  actual  warfare.  The  shadows  and  images  of  war  were  to 
give  place  to  its  stern  realities,  and  the  ardent  desires  of 
our  man-at-arms  were  soon,  in  some  sort,  to  be  gratified. 
Charles  VIII.  had  resolved  to  assert,  by  arais,  his  claims  to 
the  crown  of  Naples.  These  claims  were  such  only  as 
could  be  urged  by  power;  the  right  was  shadowy  and 
unsubstantial,  and,  but  for  the  intrigues  of  Ludovic  Sfor- 
za,  then  in  the  government  of  Milan,  and  doubtful  of  his 
seat,  who  represented  the  conquest  as  easy,  and  who  flat- 
tered Charles  that  he  might  become  another  Charlemagne, 
would  never  have  been  suffered  to  disquiet  the  peace  of  the 
nations.  Naples  overcome,  and  the  next  step  was  to  dis- 
possess the  Turk  of  Constantinople.  This  was  one  of  the 
lures  of  Sforza,  and,  wild  as  was  the  project,  it  had  its  in- 
fluence not  less  upon  the  French  nation  than  upon  its  mon- 
arch. The  younger  part  of  the  nobility  were  eager  for  the 
invasion.     The  people  were  prepared  to  regard  it  as  a 


WAR    AGAINST    NAPLES.  47 

preparatory  step  to  another  Holy  War — a  cnisade  in  which 
they  were  to  acquire  claims  upon  heaven  by  their  bold  as- 
saults upon  a  heathen  enemy.  The  more  judicious  coun- 
sellors of  the  realm  opposed  themselves  to  the  design. 
They  knew  the  infirmities  of  the  monarch's  character,  and 
were  probably  not  insensible  to  the  weakness  of  his  claim,* 
though,  on  this  head,  they  may  have  said  nothing.  They 
represented  to  him  the  impolicy  of  quitting  his  kingdom,  the 
danger  to  himself  and  country  of  exposing  his  person  in  a  for- 
eign war,  the  numerous  enemies  whom  he  would  make  active 
by  the  invasion,  the  ability  in  war  of  some  of  his  opponents, 
and  his  own  exhausted  finances.  They  warned  him  against 
the  meshes  of  the  Italian  politicians,  and  urged  him  not  to 
incur  perils  from  which  his  more  prudent  predecessor 
shrunk  with  becoming  caution,  if  not  in  fear.t  But  their 
arguments  were  unavailing  against  those  of  the  cunning  and 
faithless  Sforza,  the  impatient  eagerness  of  the  king's 
younger  barons,  and  his  own  restless  vanity.  The  young 
and  ardent  enterprise  of  the  nation  longed  for  employ- 
ment, and  the  associates  of  Charles,  who  was  himself  just 
anived  at  manhood,  naturally  made  a  more  decided  im- 
pression upon  his  mind  than  the  counsels  of  graybeards, 
with  whom  he  had  no  sympathy.  There  were  thousands 
of  gay  gallants,  brave  and  chivalrous,  in  the  aniiies  of  the 
king,  who,  seen  in  the  frequent  passages  of  the  tourney, 
might  readily  persuade  themselves  and  their  monarch  that 
they  were  equal  to  any  enterprise.  They  would  naturally 
urge  him  upon  this.  The  war  was,  accordingly,  decreed,  and 
the  preparations  for  carrying  it  on  were  made  with  a  vigor 
which  surprised  all  who  knew  the  uncertainty  and  weakness 
of  his  character.  An  immense  army  was  rapidly  brought 
together,  which,  variously  estimated,  was  probably  about 

*  See  on  this  subject  the  well-argued  paper  contained  among  the  mis- 
cellanies of  Gibbon,  entitled,  "  Critical  Researches  concerning  the  Title  of 
Charles  VIII.  to  the  Crown  of  Naples." 

t  Roscoe's  Leo  the  Tenth. 


48  ITALY    OVERRUN. 

« 

forty  thousand  men.     Our  young  knight  took  the  field  under 
the  command  of  the  Count  de  Ligny. 

But  the  war  did  not  at  first  promise  much  for  his  youthful 
ambition.  It  was  a  triumphal  progress  rather  than  the 
march  of  an  army  into  the  country  of  an  enemy.  The  Ital- 
ians were  overwhelmed  by  the  greatness  and  suddenness  of 
the  invasion.  Sforza  himself,  who  had  contemplated  noth- 
ing farther  than  a  war  of  intrigue,  and  whose  aim  was  sim- 
ply to  occupy  the  ear  of  the  French  king  for  his  own  pur- 
poses, was  astounded  by  what  he  had  done,  and  soon  began 
to  play  false  with  his  ally,  though,  for* some  time,  he  contin- 
ued to  maintain  appearances.  He  met  and  welcomed  him 
into  Italy,  which  was  quickly  overrun,  without  making  an 
effort  to  defend  her  plains.  Florence  made  a  vain  show  of 
resistance,  which  was  instantly  quelled,  and  the  French 
araiy  penetrated  the  temtories  of  the  Church.  Charles 
entered  Rome  on  the  last  night  of  the  year  1494,  by  the 
light  of  a  thousand  torches,  and  in  the  habit  of  a  conqueror. 
Here,  by  way  of  duly  asserting  his  seignorial  rights,  he 
raised  that  simple  structure  which  wits  have  denominated 
the  most  certain  proof  of  civilization — the  gallows.  His 
first  act  of  authority  was  the  prompt  punishment  of  certain 
malefactors,  by  hanging,  drowning,  whipping,  and  mutila- 
tion, showing  that,  "  as  a  true  son  of  the  Church,  and  most 
Christian  king,  he  enjoyed  the  same  power  of  executing 
justice  in  Rome,  as  in  his  tovni  of  Paris."  *  The  pope,  the 
notorious  Alexander  VI.,  though  bitterly  grieved  at  heart, 
had  no  reproaches.  He  dared  not  even  murmur  at  this 
gross  derogation  from  his  civil  and  spiritual  authority. 
Wholly  at  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror,  he  honored  him 
with  his  embraces  and  garbed  his  hostility  in  smiles.  From 
Rome  an  equally  triumphant  progi'ess  brought  the  French 
monarch  upon  Naples  ;  no  warlike  opposition  being  offered 
which  was  not  instantly  subdued.  He  entered  the  city  on 
the  22d  February,  1495,  assumed  the  government,  and  in  a 
*  Monstrelet. 


EXCESSES  OF  THE  FRENCH.  49 

few  days  was  hailed  as  the  sovereign  of  the  kingdom.  Never 
was  progress  so  complete.  The  pope,  concealing  his  own 
dissatisfaction,  sarcastically  said  that  "  the  French  had  over- 
run Italy  with  wooden  spurs,  and  conquered  it  with  chalk," 
alluding  to  the  custom  in  those  days  of  marking  with  chalk 
the  doors  of  those  upon  whom  the  soldiery  was  to  be  quar- 
tered.* 

But  the  spirit  which  was  wanting  to  resist  the  invasion 
was  not  wanting  to  punish  and  avenge  it.  The  Italians 
were  deeply  mortified  at  the  disgrace  of  their  country ;  their 
resentments  were  increased  by  the  licentiousness  which 
marked  the  progress  of  the  French  soldiery,  whose  excesses 
are  admitted  by  their  own  historians.t  They  were  scoraful 
and  contemptuous  when  dealing  with  the  better  classes, 
brutal  and  fierce  when  they  happened  among  the  common 
people.  "  At  our  first  entrance  into  Italy  we  were  adored 
as  saints,  . . .  but  that  opinion  lasted  not  long ;  our  own  dis- 
orders, and  the  clamors  and  false  reports  of  our  enemies, 
quickly  convinced  them  of  the  contrary."  The  disorders 
of  the  French  are  all  to  be  traced  to  their  superiors,  and 
particularly  to  their  monarch.  His  conduct  was  that  of  a 
boy  suddenly  possessed  of  an  abundance  of  novel  play- 
things. Instead  of  devoting  himself  to  his  new  government, 
strengthening  its  defences,  providing  against  its  exigencies, 
and  soothing  the  public  mind  until  he  had  won  its  confi- 
dence, he  gave  himself  up  to  practices,  now  of  pleasure,  and 
now  of  superstition,  which  were  neither  of  them  often  of  a 
kingly  nature.  But  he  was  not  selfish  in  his  pleasures,  and 
among  other  modes  of  employing  his  cavaliers,  and  amus- 
ing his  subjects,  a  solemn  tournament  was  decreed,  which 
continued  day  by  day  for  a  week.  It  was  attended  nu- 
merously from  all  parts  of  Italy.  The  great  lords  of  Flor- 
ence and  other  states  were  present,  forgetting  their  country 
in  the  love  of  change  and  pleasure,  and  declaring  for  the 
invader  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  he  had  been  the  monarch 
*  Roscoe's  Leo  the  Tenth.  t  Philip  de  Comines,  B.  vii. 

E 


50  THE    ITALIANS    ROUSE    THEMSELVES. 

of  their  choice.  The  great  ladies  of  Naples  and  the  sur- 
rounding country  did  not  withhold  their  presence,  and,  in 
the  exhibition  of  his  power,  Charles  seemed  to  forget  all 
precautions  for  its  security.  We  do  not  learn  that  our  hon 
chevalier  took  any  part  in  this  tourney :  his  name  is  not 
mentioned  by  the  chroniclers.  Doubtless,  he  would  have 
been  present  if  this  had  been  possible  or  proper.  The 
honors  of  the  field  seems  to  have  remained  with  the  more 
aristocratic,  if  not  more  noble  names  of  Chastillon  and 
Bourdillon  ;  and,  if  our  young  knight  jousted  at  all  during 
these  passages  at  Naples,  it  was  probably  in  conflict  with 
more  youthful  champions  like  himself,  whose  deeds  were 
lost  sight  of  in  their  inferiority  of  rank  and  name.  We 
shall  find,  however,  that  the  chronicles,  which  are  silent  in 
respect  to  his  perfomiances  at  the  solemn  tournament  of 
Charles,  at  Naples,  exhibit  no  such  reserve  in  regard  to  his 
general  conduct.  They  are  at  some  pains  to  separate  his 
career  from  that  of  his  associates,  in  all  that  concerns  the 
cause  of  purity  and  humanity.  The  noble  propriety  of  his 
deportment  toward  the  people  among  whom  he  moved  as 
an  enemy,  proved  him  to  have  forgotten  none  of  his  early  les- 
sons of  gentleness  and  good  faith.  The  pride  of  success,  the 
exulting  passion  which  makes  triumph  so  fiequently  forget- 
ful of  humanity  and  right,  particularly  in  the  bosom  of  impet- 
uous youth,  seems  never  for  an  instant  to  have  beguiled  him 
from  those  virtues  which  had  always  been  his  distinction. 

While  Charles  was  wasting  time,  which  was  precious 
for  the  safety  of  his  acquisition,  his  enemies  were  busy. 
The  always  conflicting  states  of  Italy,  urged  by  the  neces- 
sity of  the  case,  and  each  trembling  for  its  own  safety,  were 
quickly  brought  together.  To  expel  an  invader,  too  pow- 
erful for  them  all  separately,  was  obviously  the  common 
object.  The  royal  family  which  had  been  driven  out  by 
Charles  from  Naples,  had  sought,  and  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing, the  alliance  and  support  of  the  Spaniards.  Ferdinand, 
the  selfish  and  avaricious  monarch  of  that  country,  had  his 


CHARLES  RETREATS  FROM  NAPLES.         51 

own  interests  to  subserve  in  giving  succor  to  the  exiled 
Prince  of  Naples  ;  though,  in  so  doing,  he  violated  the  ex- 
press stipulations  of  a  treaty  w^hich  he  had  made  with 
Charles,  before  the  invasion  of  Italy  by  the  latter,  in  which 
he  solemnly  engaged  not  to  interfere  in  the  concerns  of 
Naples.  Ludovic  Sforza,  who  had  chiefly  instigated  the 
French  king  to  the  invasion,  now  abandoned  him.  The 
Venetians,  who  had  been  quieted  by  Sforza,  so  as  to  look 
with  indifference  on  the  advance  of  the  French,  shared  nat- 
urally in  his  caprice,  and  joined  the  league  against  them ; 
urging  foi'ward  the  preparations  for  their  expulsion  v^dth  a 
vigor  singularly  contrasted  with  their  previous  unconcern. 
In  a  short  time  the  ambassador  of  Charles  at  Venice  was 
coolly  informed  that  an  army  of  forty  thousand  men  were 
about  to  take  the  field,  the  purpose  of  which  he  was  suffer- 
ed to  conjecture  as  he  pleased.* 

The  peril  of  Charles  was  now  very  gi'eat ;  and  had  the 
movements  of  the  allies,  in  assembling  their  forces,  been  a 
little  more  rapid,  he  could  never  have  regained  his  king- 
dom. No  sooner  had  he  been  advised  of  the  league  against 
him  than  he  prepared  to  quit  his  newly-acquired  dominions. 
In  thus  deciding,  he  committed  the  eiTor  of  leaving  behind 
him  a  part  of  his  army  in  possession  of  the  capital  and  of 
the  fortresses  of  the  kingdom.  Inadequate  to  the  mainten- 
ance of  the  conflict,  they  were  left  only  to  be  sacrificed  in 
detail,  while  the  fierce  which  accompanied  his  person  was 
scarcely  equal,  but  for  the  smiles  of  a  veiy  favoring  fortune, 
to  have  saved  him  fi'om  the  numerous  enemies  who  were 
crowding  to  prevent  his  flight.  Some  of  the  errors  which 
were  made  by  Charles  at  this  period,  are  ascribed  by  Co- 
mines  to  the  master  of  our  young  knight,  the  Count  de 
Ligny,  against  whom  the  old  chronicler  seems  to  entertain 
a  grudge.  It  is  evident  enough  that,  in  one  instance,  the 
warmth  and  generosity  of  his  feelings,  served,  in  some  de- 
gree, to  lessen  his  own,  and  the  securities  of  his  sovereign, 
*  See  the  interesting  narrative  of  Comines,  B.  vii,  viii. 


52         THE  FRENCH  CROSS  THE  APENNINES. 

and  to  peril  the  safety  of  a  select  body  of  troops.  His 
counsel,  against  the  advice  of  older  heads,  to  ganison  Pisa 
and  not  restore  her  people  to  the  tyranny  of  Florence,  was 
the  rejection  of  a  large  sum  of  money,  never  more  necessary 
than  at  that  moment  to  the  king ;  and  the  diminution  of  the 
already  too  small  army  which  was  to  enable  him  to  reach 
his  kingdom.  The  Duke  de  Montpensier  was  left  in  charge 
of  his  Italian  possessions,  with  assurances  of  early  succors 
from  France. 

Our  young  chevalier  was  one  of  those  who  attended  the 
steps  of  the  retreating  monarch.  At  Pisa,  Charles  was  re- 
ceived with  triumphal  honors,  the  people  being  anxious  for 
any  change  which  promised  to  relieve  them  fi'om  their  for- 
mer tyrants.  At  this  place  he  remained  a  week,  then  pro- 
ceeded leisurely  through  Lucca  and  Pietra  Santa,  to  Sar- 
zana.  Here  he  was  persuaded  to  send  a  small  force  to 
assist  the  Genoese,  who  were  described  as  anxious  to  throw 
oif  the  yoke  of  the  Duke  of  Milan.  But  the  Genoese  re- 
tained their  fidelity,  and  the  expedition  was  defeated. 
Approaching  Pontremoli,  a  fortified  town  at  the  foot  of 
the  Apennines,  where  the  French  expected  some  oppo- 
sition, the  place  was  yielded  to  their  advance  without  offer- 
ing any  resistance ;  but  a  quari'el  between  some  of  the  in- 
habitants and  a  party  of  Gennan  soldiers  in  the  French 
service,  in  which  forty  of  the  latter  lost  their  lives,  led  to  a 
tert'ible  massacre  of  the  people  and  the  destruction  of  the 
town.  This  affair,  at  once  disgraceful  and  impolitic,  was 
the  act  of  the  auxiliaries.  We  do  not  find  that  the  French 
portion  of  the  forces  of  Charles  were  at  all  concerned  in  the 
proceeding,  and  it  was  highly  resented  by  the  king  himself. 
He  now  crossed  the  Apennines,  having  consumed  six  weeks 
in  his  march,  and  at  a  time  when  his  safety  chiefly  depend- 
ed upon  his  passing  the  mountains  before  his  enemies  could 
assemble  in  sufficient  strength  to  oppose  his  progress.  He 
had  passed  the  summit  of  those  hills  which  form  the  northern 
extremity  of  the  Apennines,  when  the  plains  of  Lombardy 


BATTLE    OF    FORNOVO.  5t3 

opening  upon  his  sight,  displayed  the  tents  and  pavilions  of 
a  numerous  army.  It  was  here  that  the  Marquis  of  Man- 
tua, the  generalissimo  of  the  allied  powers,  had  accumula- 
ted a  force  of  nearly  forty  thousand  men :  that  of  Charles 
not  exceeding  nine  thousand.  The  opposing  armies  came 
together  near  the  little  town  of  Fornovo.  An  attempt  was 
made  to  treat  for  the  free  passage  of  the  King  of  France 
to  his  own  dominions.  The  celebrated  Philip  de  Comines, 
who  was  the  commissioner  for  Charles,  advised  him, 
however,  before  the  negotiation  w^as  opened,  that  it 
would  result  in  nothing.  "  I  never  saw  two  great  armies 
so  near,"  said  the  experienced  statesman,  "  but  they  fought 
before  they  parted."  This  meeting  might  have  been 
avoided  by  the  French  ;  but  their  progress  was  a  series 
of  blunders,  the  final  escape  from  which  seems  almost 
to  confer  a  sacred  sanction  upon  the  predictions  of  the 
monk  Savonarola,  who  claimed  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and 
who  told  Comines  that  his  master  would  reach  France  in 
safety.  The  negotiation  failed  ;  the  battle  was  no  longer  to 
be  avoided.  It  began  with  the  attempt  at  the  passage  of  the 
river  Taro,  of  the  advanced  guard  of  the  French  with  the 
artillery.  The  Italian  forces  were  in  motion  as  soon  as  the 
French ;  the  cavalry  of  the  latter  followed,  with  the  king 
in  person ;  the  rear  was  brought  up  by  the  Count  de  Foix. 
Upon  this  body  the  Italians  fell  with  their  greatest  force. 
Led  by  the  Marquis  of  Mantua,  they  forced  their  way  to 
the  very  person  of  Charles,  and  nothing  but  his  own  gal- 
lantry, and  the  devoted  service  of  his  cavaliers,  saved  him 
from  death  or  captivity.  He  himself  did  the  duty  of  a  com- 
mon soldier,  threw  off  his  constitutional  timidity,  and  did 
honor  to  the  great  empire  which  he  swayed.  His  person 
was  several  times  in  danger,  but  he  was  always  saved  by  a 
happy  occurrence  of  events,  such  as  could  not  have  been 
predicted  in  a  combat  so  very  desultory  and  full  of  caprice 
as  that  of  Fornovo.  It  is  difficult  now  to  designate  the 
events  which  singly  or  together  brought  about  the  final  re- 


54  bayard's  valor. 

suit;  but  the  victory  lay  with  the  French.  The  Itahans 
were  defeated,  and  fled  in  every  direction. . . .  Ten  thousand 
of  them  are  reported  to  have  perished,  while  the  loss  of  the 
French  was  less  than  one  thousand.  The  confederates  con- 
soled themselves  with  the  spoils  of  the  French  camp,  which 
they  succeeded  in  carrying  in  their  flight.  Their  eagerness 
in  the  appropriation  of  these,  in  all  probability,  led  to  the 
discreditable  result  of  the  battle.  Those  who  were  not  thus' 
beguiled,  fought  bravely,  and  their  leaders  paid  dearly  for 
the  desertion  of  their  followers.  "  I  myself,"  remarks  Co- 
mines,  "  saw  a  list  of  eighteen  considerable  persons,  and 
among  the  rest  four  or  five  Gonzagas,  which  are  of  the 
marquis's  (of  Mantua)  own  family,  who  were  slain." 

This  was  the  first  stricken  field  in  which  Bayard  fought. 
Here,  properly  speaking,  he  fleshed  his  maiden  sword.  He 
began  his  career  in  such  a  manner  as  to  confirm  all  the 
hopes  which  had  been  formed  of  his  fearlessness  and  skill. 
At  the  first  blush  of  battle  he  rushed  into  the  mel6e,  and 
bore  himself  triumphantly  throughout  all  the  charges  of  the 
day.  Two  horses  were  killed  under  him,  but  he  himself 
escaped  unhurt.  The  battle  was  one  almost  wholly  of 
sword  and  lance  ;  but  few  were  slain  by  the  artillery  ;  and 
this  fact  is  enough,  by  itself,  to  show  the  efficiency  of  that 
arm  in  the  French  array,  in  which  Bayard  distinguished 
himself.  His  conduct  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  his  su- 
periors. He  received  from  the  king  a  reward  of  five  hun- 
dred crowns  for  his  valor,  and  in  return  laid  at  his  feet  the 
standards  of  the  enemy's  cavalry  which  he  had  captured  in 
the  pursuit. 

The  farther  progress  of  the  French  araiy  was  unembar- 
rassed by  their  enemies,  and  Charles  reached  his  capital  in 
safety.  He  had  succeeded  in  the  conquest  of  Naples,  had 
placed  its  crown  upon  his  head,  had  traversed  Italy  as  a 
conqueror,  yet  had  failed  shamefully  in  all  the  substantial 
purposes  of  his  expedition.  Naples  was  soon  repossessed 
by  its  former  masters,  the  garrisons  of  the  French  fell  one 


DEATH    OP    CHARLES    VIII.  55 

by  one  into  the  hands  of  the  Italians  and  their  confederates, 
and,  though  fighting  bravely,  and  disputing  the  arms  of 
their  foes  at  every  point,  the  forces  which  he  left  behind 
him  were  formally  expelled  from  Italy,  after  the  loss  of 
great  numbers  and  the  endurance  of  great  privation.  The 
finances  of  France  were  in  the  worst  condition,  and  the 
nation  was  emban-assed  with  a  heavy  debt.  The  people 
no  less  than  soldiery  were  demoralized  by  the  new  lessons 
of  licentiousness  which  the  latter  brought  from  the  war ; 
and  Charles  himself,  always  a  feeble  prince,  soon  sank  into 
an  imbecile.  He  may  have  meditated  preparations  against 
the  Italian  states,  and  for  the  recovery  of  his  kingdom  of 
Naples,  but  he  effected  nothing;  and  died  suddenly  of 
apoplexy  at  a  game  of  tennis. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Charles  VIII.  was  succeeded  on  the  throne  of  France 
by  his  cousin  Louis,  duke  of  Orleans,  who  took  the  title  of 
Louis  XII.  He  soon  declared  his  intentions  with  regard 
to  Italy,  by  adding  to  his  titles  those  of  Duke  of  Milan  and 
King  of  the  Two  Sicilies.  The  states  of  Italy  greatly  re- 
joiced at  the  death  of  Charles,  whose  last  days  were  spent 
in  idle  resolves  for  the  resumption  of  his  Neapolitan  domin- 
ion. But  Louis  was  a  much  more  dangerous  enemy  to 
their  peace  than  Charles  had  ever  shown  himself.  He  was 
a  man  of  gi-eater  courage  and  gi'eater  sagacity,  and  had 
acquired  considerable  experience  of  a  kind  the  most  valua- 
ble to  him  in  his  present  projects,  during  the  expedition  of 
his  successor,  in  which  he  had  borne  an  active  part  himself. 
He  began  his  preparations  at  an  early  period  by  negociating 
with  the  other  powers  of  Europe,  and  particularly  with  the 
Italian  governments.     His  aim  was  to  secure  their  assist- 


THE    FRENCH    INVADE    THE    MILANESE.  57 

ance,  or,  at  least,  their  neutrality.  The  Pope  was  gained 
over  to  his  interests  by  a  maniage  of  Caesar  Borgia  with 
a  daughter  of  the  King  of  Navarre,  and  near  relation  of 
Louis,  and  by  other  favors  which  the  latter  knew  how  to 
confer  with  grace  and  to  profitable  ends.  The  Venetians, 
for  a  consideration,  became  a  party  to  his  ambitious  proj- 
ects; and  Spain,  tempted  by  a  share  of  the  spoil  which 
was  to  be  obtained  by  the  conquest  of  Naples,  agreed  by 
secret  treaty  to  assist  in  the  operation.  The  French  army, 
commanded  by  the  Count  de  Ligny  and  Stuart  d'Aubigny, 
crossed  the  Alps,  and  forming  a  junction  with  Trivulzio,  an 
able  but  faithless  Italian  Condottiero,  who  had  obtained  the 
rank  of  a  marshal  of  France,  occupied  the  chief  towns  in  the 
Milanese,  and  at  length  captured  and  sacked  the  capital. 
This  place  was  held  by  the  thrice-dyed  traitor,  Ludovic 
Sforza,  who  made  his  escape  with  difficulty.  The  King  of 
France  entered  Milan  as  a  sovereign  on  the  6th  of  October, 
1499,  amid  the  acclamations  of  the  people.  The  states  of 
Milan  and  Genoa  were  taken  into  the  allegiance  of  France. 
Cremona  was  given  to  the  Venetians,  and  Caesar  Borgia, 
now  called  the  Duke  of  Valentinois,  at  the  head  of  the  Pa- 
pal and  a  portion  of  the  French  forces,  proceeded  to  con- 
quer for  himself  a  principality  out  of  the  territories  of  other 
Italian  states.  The  war  was  not  such  as  to  yield  reputation  to 
the  young  knight  ambitious  of  distinction.  The  invasion, 
quite  as  rapid  and  as  successful  as  that  of  Charles  had  been 
at  first,  afforded  no  enemy  worthy  of  the  arms  of  the  inva- 
der. Bayard,  who  made  the  campaign,  still  under  the 
banner  of  the  Count  de  Ligny,  sighed  at  the  inglorious 
progress  which  brought  victory  to  the  French  banners  with- 
out in  any  wise  tasking  French  valor ;  and  the  peaceful 
garrison  life  to  which  he  was  consigned  on  the  return  of 
Louis  to  France,  though  somewhat  relieved  by  the  sports 
of  the  tourney,  failed  now  to  satisfy  the  appetite  of  one 
who,  in  actual  warfare,  had  already  been  made  to  relish 
the  superiority  of  stronger  food.     Still,  these  sports  were 


68      BAYARD   SLAYS    HIS    OPPONENT    IN    THE    TOURNEY. 

not  always  peaceful,  and,  in  the  case  of  our  young  knight, 
the  issue  of  one  of  them  proved  serious  enough.  Among 
the  frequent  tourneys  which  took  place  in  Lombardy,  in 
most  of  which  he  shared,  there  was  one  in  which  he  en- 
countered a  Milanese  gentleman  named  Giacinto  Simonet- 
ta.  Simonetta  was  a  brave  and  skilful  knight,  but  his 
conceit  and  arrogance  were  insufferable ;  and,  fighting  with 
Bayard,  he  so  provoked  him  by  his  insolence,  that  the  pas- 
time became  a  combat  a  V outrance,  and  our  young  knight 
slew  him  in  the  lists.  The  chroniclers  give  us  no  farther 
particulars  of  an  affair  which  was  yet  regarded  as  a  prog- 
nostic of  the  calamities  which  threatened  the  House  of 
Sforza. 

Left  with  a  considerable  portion  of  the  French  army  in 
Lombardy,  Bayard,  after  this  event,  availed  himself  of  the 
apparent  quiet  of  the  country,  to  renew  his  acquaintance 
with  the  surviving  members  of  the  House  of  Savoy. 
Charles  I.,  duke  of  that  House,  to  whom  he  owed  his  ear- 
liest military  training,  was  now  no  more.  His  widow, 
Blanche,  maintained  a  little  court  at  the  town  of  Carignan 
in  Piedmont,  which  had  been  assigned  her  for  a  dowry. 
The  heart  of  Bayard  warmed  toward  the  lady  of  whose 
lord  he  had  been  a  favorite  page.  He  had  a  tender  recol- 
lection of  the  happy  months  spent  in  his  service  ;  and  other 
recollections  of  peculiar  force  served  to  render  him  anx- 
ious once  more  to  renew  his  intimacy  with  a  family,  some 
of  whose  members  still  held  a  large  influence  over  his 
heart.  The  duchess  was  a  very  generous  and  noble  prin- 
cess, and  came  of  a  famous  stock.  Blanche  Paleologus 
was  the  daughter  of  William  VII.,  marquis  of  Montfen^at, 
and  her  husband  had  been  surnamed  "  the  wanior."  The 
fame  of  Bayard  had  reached  her  ears,  and  his  welcome 
was  that  of  a  kinsman.  She  received  him  with  equal 
kindness  and  distinction;  his  achievements  were  gratefiil 
to  her  pride,  as  they  might  in  some  degi'ee  be  ascribed  to 
her  own  and  husband's  training ;  and  she  had  no  imperfect 


RENEWS    AN    ANCIENT    FRIENDSHIP.  59 

memory  of  the  graceful  and  modest  page  whose  native  ac- 
complishments had  won  her  regards,  as  they  had  won  those 
of  all  other  persons.  Bayard  was  greatly  rejoiced,  as  we 
may  suppose,  at  this  reception ;  but,  with  the  profoundest 
attachment  and  gratitude  for  this  noble  lady,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  there  was  yet  another  motive  for  the  visit  of  our 
young  gallant.  A  feeling  something  stronger  than  either 
gratitude  or  friendship  was  actively  working  in  his  heart. 
We  have  not  forgotton  the  boy-passion  of  Bayard  for  the 
young  damsel  in  the  train  of  the  duchess,  who,  in  return 
for  his  proposals  of  love,  gave  him  such  admirable  exhorta- 
tions to  prudence,  just  before  his  transfer  to  the  sei-vice  of 
the  Count  de  Ligny.  We  have  not  forgotten  his  vows  of 
eternal  love,  and  his  determination  to  declare  them  to  the 
Duchess  of  Savoy,  on  the  very  day  when  he  was  command- 
ed by  the  duke  to  prepare  for  his  departure  for  Lyons. 
This  young  lady  was  still  in  the  service  of  the  noble  house 
which  had  nourished  her  childhood  ;  but  our  hero  could  no 
longer  behold  her  with  the  ardent  admiration  of  love.  She 
was  the  wife  of  another ;  she  had  given  her  heart  to  the 
youth,  but  she  could  not  oppose  herself  to  the  wishes  of  her 
relatives  and  patron.  The  page  was  no  longer  at  hand  to 
encourage  and  justify  her  resolution  by  the  earnest  pledge 
of  his  own ;  and  though  they  had  continued  to  correspond  at 
intervals,  there  is  a  something  frigid  in  the  warmest  inter- 
course by  letter,  which  feebly  answers  to  keep  together 
hearts  which  the  hostile  and  neighboring  world  is  striving 
to  put  asunder.  The  letters  of  Bayard  renewed  his  assur- 
ances ;  but  she  might  well  be  taught  to  regard  them  only  as 
the  becoming  expressions  of  an  honorable  man,  heedful 
only  of  his  word,  when,  perhaps,  the  heart  of  the  writer 
might  gladly  avail  itself  of  the  privilege  of  escape.  She 
could  easily  be  persuaded  to  believe  that  the  natural  prog- 
ress of  his  years  and  feelings,  from  those  of  boyhood  to 
maturity, — the  excitements  of  the  life  which  he  led, — the 
provocations  of  war  and  new  companions, — were,  in  all 


60  TOLERATION    OF    CHIVALRY. 

probability,  quite  enough  to  render  weak  the  influence 
of  the  juvenile  flame  which  she  had  inspired.  These, 
united,  were  considerations  of  force  sufficient  to  cause  her 
to  yield  to  the  persuasions  of  another.  She  was  now  the 
wife  of  the  Lord  of  Fluxas,  a  gentleman  of  large  fortune, 
who  had  charge  of  the  household  and  estates  of  the  Duchess 
of  Savoy.  She  was  still  young,  still  beautiful,  and  still  en- 
tertained a  warm  affection  for  the  page  who  had  first  won 
her  heart.  The  feelings  of  Bayard  were  no  less  tender; 
his  memory  no  less  tenacious  of  those  graces  and  virtues 
which  had  first  prompted  him  to  love  ;  but  the  impassable 
wall  between  them  was  one  which  neither  of  these  pure, 
young  hearts  had  any  desire  or  thought  to  overleap. 

Her  marriage  had  reached  the  ears  of  Bayard  at  the 
time  of  its  occun'ence,  and  he  had  been  very  much  affected 
by  the  intelligence.  But  he  had  no  reproaches,  for,  in  his 
own  mind,  he  felt  how  much  more  eligible  as  a  husband, 
than  himself,  was  the  man  whom  she  had  taken ;  and  he 
generously  preferred  her  happiness  to  his  own.  Though 
thus  separated,  the  two  never  lost  sight  of  each  other ;  and 
the  correspondence  which  they  had  continued  at  intei'vals 
before  her  maniage,  gave  place,  after  that  event,  to  the  in- 
terchange of  an  occasional  gage  d^amitie,  such  as  it  was 
not  improper  for  either  party  to  offer  and  receive.  She  had 
followed  his  fortunes  with  an  eye  which  still  declared  her 
heart's  deep  interest  in  his.  None  of  his  achievements  had 
escaped  her,  and  it  was  easy  to  see,  when  they  met,  that 
her  marriage  with  another  had  not  expelled  him  from  her 
affections.  She  gave  him  the  tenderest  reception,  and  he 
trembled  with  all  the  renewal  of  his  early  passion  as  he 
carried  her  hand  to  his  lips.  They  did  not  scruple  to 
speak,  in  the  hearing  of  all,  of  their  past  and  even  present 
fondness  for  each  other.  No  one  seemed  to  think,  indeed, 
that  the  rights  of  the  husband  were  at  all  outi'aged  by  such 
admissions.  Chivalry  encouraged  this  sort  of  intercourse  ; 
its  laws  insisted  upon  it — its  own  vitality  lay  in  its  recogni- 


PASSION    SUBDUED    BY    CHASTITY.  61 

tion ;  and  beautiful,  indeed,  with  a  strange  seductive  love- 
liness, was  the  aspect  which  love  put  on,  artificial  to  our 
eyes,  in  the  undress  but  studied  simphcity  of  that  peculiar 
era.  It  was  the  growing  prudence  of  a  time  in  which  chiv- 
ahy  was  dying  out  that  had  prevented  their  union.  Their 
passion  had  been  more  mature  than  their  friends  had  es- 
teemed it.  It  had  sui'vived  their  childhood,  their  separa- 
tion, the  thousand  changing  influences  of  a  career  full  of  ex- 
citements, and  the  maniage,  with  another,  of  one  of  the  par- 
ties. To  declare  this  was  rather  honorable  than  otherwise. 
We  are  told  that  the  Lady  of  Fluxas  desired,  as  far  as  an 
honest  woman  might,  to  let  Bayard  see  that  the  love  she  had 
borne  him  in  former  years  had  suffered  no  abatement.  He 
still  returned,  with  all  the  feelings,  to  all  the  recollections  of 
the  past.  She  reminded  him  of  a  thousand  little  anecdotes 
which  interested  them  both  at  the  time,  and  which  it  gave 
them  equal  pleasure  once  more  to  remember.  His  achieve- 
ments contributed  the  chief  topics  of  the  lady,  and  of  these 
she  appears  to  have  cherished  a  much  more  copious  cata- 
logue than  it  will  be  in  our  power,  with  all  our  painstaking, 
to  gather  from  the  musty  chronicles.  She  suppressed  noth- 
ing of  the  admiration  which  she  felt  for  himself  and  his 
performances ;  and  in  the  simple  ardor  of  a  frank  and  gush- 
ing heart,  she  allowed  her  own  secretly-cherished  passion  to 
become  apparent  to  any  who  had  eyes  to  see.  But  it  was 
in  her  perfect  innocence  of  soul  that  she  prattled,  and  the 
soul  of  her  listener  was  not  less  white  than  her  own.  The 
heart  of  Bayard  was  chaste  like  that  of  a  maiden.  He  could 
sit  beside  the  lady  of  his  love,  as  in  former  days,  speak  her 
praises  and  listen  to  his  own  without  one  evil  emotion.  He 
could  tell  her  how  much  the  page  had  loved  her,  and  how 
happy  it  made  him  to  believe  that  he  was  still  honored  by 
her  affections.  Yet  she  was  still  young  and  very  beautifiil, 
yielding,  in  the  sweetness  of  her  speech  and  the  graces  of 
her  manner,  to  no  woman  in  the  world.  And  her  lips  were 
always  pouring  forth  his  praises,  and  her  eyes  declaring,  as 

F 


62  THE    LADY    ASKS    A    FAVOK. 

plainly  as  eyes  could  declare,  that  he  was  still  the  object 
of  their  fondest  admiration.  We  shall  not  pretend  to  in- 
quire if  all  this  intercourse  was  proper,  nor  whether  it  was' 
consistent  with  the  rights  of  others.  We  shall  trouble  our- 
selves with  no  such  prudery,  but  refer  the  question  wholly 
for  solution  to  the  period  itself  when  such  were  deemed 
very  proper  practices.  Chivalry,  in  those  days,  sanctioned 
such  freedoms  ;  and  we  may  add,  that  passion  does  not  seem 
often  to  have  abused  them.  The  husband  looked  on  and 
favored  an  intercourse,  of  the  innocence  of  which  he  had 
no  question.  It  was  probably  a  subject  of  some  gi'atifica- 
tion  that  he  should  have  borne  away  the  prize  which  was 
so  dear  in  the  sight  of  the  distinguished  champion.  At  all 
events,  society  had  so  arranged  it  that  the  possessor  of  the 
treasure  should  have  no  cause  of  offence  in  the  envy  and 
admiration  of  his  neighbor.  The  Lady  of  Fluxaswas  per- 
mitted free  communion  with  her  lover,  and  there  was  no 
sort  of  secret  of  their  affections.  Conversing  together,  she 
seemed  pleased  to  bring  him  back  to  his  exploits,  from  the 
recital  of  which  he  always  shrunk  with  a  becoming  modesty. 
But  she  had  her  object  in  recurring  to  these  topics.  She 
reminded  him  ef  his  first  passage-at-arms  with  Claude  de 
Vaudray,  of  the  tourney  which  he  won  at  Aire,  in  Picardy, 
and  finally  of  his  behavior  at  the  battle  of  Fomovo,  which 
was  gradually  spreading  his  name  over  France.  She  rec- 
onciled him  to  these  subjects  by  showing  her  own  deep  in- 
terest in  their  recital.  His  heart  was  touched  by  these 
proofs  of  her  unfaltering  memory,  and  her  continued  watch- 
fulness of  his  career.  His  pride  was  gratified  by  her  ad- 
miration ;  his  spirit  was  roused  by  her  glowing  and  eager 
recitals.  She  saw  the  impression  which  she  had  made  in 
the  kindling  of  his  eye  and  the  quivering  of  his  lip,  and 
seized  the  moment  to  urge  a  prayer — the  object  of  which 
was  to  give  him  a  new  opportunity  of  distinction,  and  to 
gratify  her  own  pride  by  the  exhibition  of  his  prowess. 
"  Bayard,  my  friend,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  at  your  hands, 


A    TOURNEY   PROPOSED.  63 

and,  I  pray  you,  do  not  refuse  me.  You  are  now  with 
those  with  whom  you  had  the  first  lessons  of  your  youth. 
It  were  not  seemly  that  you  should  depart  without  giving 
them  to  behold  some  shows  of  that  prowess  in  arms  which 
hath  elsewhere  made  you  famous.  The  Lady  Blanche  is 
a  great  lover  of  the  tournament.  She  would  be  enchanted 
beyond  expression  if  you  would  declare  one  at  Carignan. 
There  are  many  gentlemen  of  the  country  who  would  de- 
light to  show  themselves  in  the  lists,  and  no  doubt  there 
are  many  of  your  owti  Frenchmen  whom  a  word  from  you 
would  summon  to  the  encounter.  Methinks  the  affair  might 
be  made  very  brilliant  and  well  worthy  to  be  seen." 

**  Since  you  wish  it,"  said  Bayard,  "  the  thing  shall  be 
done.  You  are  the  first  lady  who  ever  won  my  heart  to 
her  sei-vice,  and  your  chaiins  are  still  powerful  to  compel 
my  obedience.  But  I  have  also  to  ask  of  you  a  favor,  as 
a  condition  of  my  sei-vice." 

**  What  is  that,  dear  Bayard  V 

"  I  feel  that  you  know  I  should  ask  of  you  nothing  im- 
proper," he  continued,  with  a  somewhat  mournful  voice 
and  manner.  "  Of  you  I  well  know  I  can  have  no  higher 
privilege  than  that  of  lips  and  hands,*  and  I  should  rather 
die  at  your  feet  than  by  any  presumption  have  the  misfor- 
tune to  offend  you.  All  that  I  ask  for  now,  dear  lady,  is 
one  of  your  sleeves.     For  that  I  have  present  service." 

This  would  seem  an  anti-climax ;  but  the  reader  must  not 
smile  without  a  cause.  A  lady's  sleeve  in  those  days  was 
not  kept  for  daws  to  peck  at.  It  was  a  badge  quite  as  dis- 
tinguished as  the  garter  of  a  countess  has  since  become ; 
and  koni  soit  qui  mat  y  pense  may  be  quite  as  properly  ap- 
plied to  one  token  as  to  the  other.  We  need  make  no  mys- 
tery of  the  matter,  and  it  is  quite  probable  that  the  Lady  of 

*  We  must  not  misunderstand  this  expression.  It  alludes  to  the  usual 
terms  of  h»«iage  :  hommage  de  bouche  et  des  mains,  which  is  done  by  a  vassal 
with  the  head  uncovered,  hands  joined,  and  a  kiss  received  ;  and  binds  him 
to  fight  for  his  lord  only  in  defence  of  the  land  whereof  he  holds. — Cotgrave. 


64  TERMS    OF    THE    TOURNEY. 

Fluxas — who  cheerfully  gave  the  sleeve — V7as  perfectly  con- 
scious of  the  use  to  w^hich  it  was  to  be  put.  Such  a  badge 
was  of  great  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  knight-errant.  It  was 
worn  by  the  champion  to  remind  him  of  the  charms  of  the 
lady,  to  enable  him  to  blazon  them  above  the  field,  and  to  in- 
spire his  valor  in  asserting  them  against  all  opponents.  In  the 
language  of  chivalry,  this  sleeve  was  termed  a  favor,  a  jewel, 
or  a  token,  and  the  wearer  became,  in  courtly  parlance,  the 
servant  of  love  to  her  who  gave  it.  That  of  the  Lady  of 
Fluxas  was  conveyed  into  Bayard's  doublet  the  moment  he 
received  it,  and  no  more  was  said  of  the  matter.  Thus  con- 
versing together  the  day  was  consumed.  That  night  he  sup- 
ped with  the  Duchess  of  Savoy,  and  the  repast  was  followed 
by  the  dance.  After  this  the  noble  lady  kept  him  with  her 
till  midnight,  pleasantly  recalling  their  mutual  histories  for 
mutual  edification.  She  then  dismissed  him  to  his  couch, 
but  it  was  not  to  sleep.  Bayard  had  food  enough  to  keep 
liim  wakeful,  if  only  in  meditating  the  delicious  memories 
of  his  mistress.  He  employed  the  hours  when  he  could 
not  sleep  in  arranging  the  conditions  of  the  proposed  tour- 
ney. With  the  morning  he  was  ready  with  his  ordinance, 
which  he  despatched,  with  sound  of  trumpet,  to  all  the 
neighboring  towns.  Most  of  these  were  strongly  garrison- 
ed, and  their  gentry,  such  as  loved  gallant  exercises,  were 
invited  to  repair  to  Carignan  four  days  after  the  coming 
Sabbath,  armed  at  all  points,  there  to  contend  for  a  prize 
which  the  Lord  of  Bayard  offered,  consisting  of  the  sleeve 
of  his  lady,  garnished  with  a  ruby  worth  a  hundred  ducats. 
The  victory  was  to  rest  with  him  who  should  "  perform  the 
best  at  three  strokes  of  the  lance,  without  lists,  and  twelve 
of  the  sword." 

The  tourney  was  duly  advertised  in  all  the  contiguous 
places  in  which  champions  were  likely  to  be  found.  Fif- 
teen cavaliers  responded  to  the  invitation.  The  Lady  of 
Fluxas  was  delighted  at  the  promptitude  of  the  knight, 
and  the  Lady  Blanche  not  less  so.    She  made  liberal  prep- 


THE  GENTLE  PASSAGE  AT  CARIGNAN,        65 

orations  for  this  "  gentle  passage."  The  grounds  were  as- 
signed and  set  in  readiness,  the  courses  marked  out,  and 
scaffolds  were  erected  for  the  ladies.  The  day  Drought 
with  it  a  large  attendance.  Crowds  from  all  quarters 
came  to  behold  the  gallant  spectacle,  while  the  little  court 
of  our  duchess  put  forth  its  gayest  habiliments.  In  due 
time  the  combatants  made  their  appearance,  and  the 
tourney  began.  Bayard  was  the  first  to  present  himself, 
armed  at  all  points,  and  attended  by  several  of  his  own  com- 
rades. He  found  himself  opposed  by  the  Lord  de  Roua- 
stre,  a  gallant  gentleman,  who  bore  the  ensign  of  Duke 
Philibert  of  Savoy.  He  was  an  expert  champion,  brought 
up  in  a  good  school,  and  who  knew  how  properly  to  use 
his  lance.  At  the  first  course,  the  lance  of  the  Lord  of 
Rouastre  was  shivered  by  a  handsome  thrust ;  but  that  of 
Bayard  was  borne  so  steadily,  and  so  well  aimed  at  the 
top  of  his  enemy's  gi'eat  buff  as  to  pierce  it  through  and 
completely  to  uncase  him.  New  lances  being  furnished  to 
the  champions,  they  ran  the  second  course,  in  which  the 
results  were  pretty  much  what  they  had  been  before.  The 
spear  of  the  Lord  of  Rouastre  was  again  well  aimed  and 
handsomely  shivered;  while  that  of  Bayard,  smiting  him 
within  the  visor,  knocked  oif  his  crest,  and  so  staggered 
him  in  his  saddle  as  barely  to  suiFer  his  escape  unhorsed. 
At  the  third  passage,  the  Lord  of  Rouastre  crossed  his  lance 
very  adroitly,  while  that  of  our  young  knight  was  shivered 
bravely.  They  were  succeeded  by  the  lords  of  Mondra- 
gon  and  de  Chevron,  who  executed  similar  courses,  and 
these  were  followed  by  all  the  rest,  who  performed  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  company.  We  shall  say  nothing  about 
them,  but  confine  ourselves  to  the  individual  champion. 
At  the  close  of  the  courses  with  the  lance,  this  weapon  was 
thrown  aside,  and  the  combats  were  resumed  \\dth  the 
sword.  The  success  of  our  young  knight  was  even  great- 
er with  this  weapon  than  the  spear.  His  own  sword  was 
broken  in  the  conflict,  but,  in  the  same  moment,  he  made 


66  THE  lady's  sleeve. 

that  of  his  adversary  fly  from  his  grasp.  The  other  cham- 
pions contended  in  hke  manner,  and  with  various  degrees 
of  success.  The  spectators  were  dehghted,  and  the  tour- 
ney was  ended  only  with  the  day.  A  supper  followed  at 
the  castle  of  the  duchess ;  after  which  came  the  hautboys. 
The  minstrels  struck  up  their  merriest  preludes  for  the 
dance,  which  was  only  suspended  until  the  judges  of  the 
tournament  should  confer  the  prize.  These  were  the  lords 
of  Grammont  and  de  Fluxas.  They  took  the  voice  of  the 
duchess  and  that  of  the  other  ladies  and  spectators,  not 
omitting  that  of  the  combatants  themselves,  and  these  unan- 
imously decreed  the  victory  to  Bayard.  The  judges  ac- 
cordingly declared  the  award.  He  would  have  refused  it ; 
but  none  of  his  pretexts  being  allowed,  he  said,  "  that  if 
he  had  done  well,  his  performance  was  solely  due  to  the 
Lady  of  Fluxas,  whose  sleeve  he  had  worn.  The  prize, 
therefore,  must  be  conveyed  to  her  to  be  bestowed  as  she 
thought  fit." 

This  declaration  surprised  nobody.  The  Lord  of  Fluxas 
himself,  flattered  rather  than  made  jealous  by  the  speech 
of  our  knight,  whose  nobleness  he  knew,  conveyed  the 
prize  to  his  wife  and  repeated  what  her  champion  had 
said.  His  lady  was  noways  confused  by  the  circumstance. 
Smiling  sweetly  upon  her  champion,  she  thanked  him  for 
the  honor  he  had  done  her,  and  said  "  Since  the  Lord  of 
Bayard  asciibes  to  my  sleeve  the  merits  of  his  victory,  I 
will  keep  it  myself,  and  wear  it  all  my  life  for  his  sake. 
With  regard  to  the  ruby,  since  he  will  not  accept  it,  I  give 
it  to  the  Lord  of  Mondragon,  who,  after  him,  is  thought  to 
have  done  the  best." 

Her  decision  met  with  general  approbation.  The  piize 
being  given,  the  dancing  commenced,  and  lasted  till  afl;er 
midnight.  These  sports  continued  for  six  days  longer 
at  this  brilliant  little  court,  and  each  day  served  only  to 
increase  the  esteem  and  reputation  which  our  good  knight 
nad  already  won.     At  length,  the  French  gentlemen  re- 


bayard's   memory'  of  former   services.         67 

turned  to  their  several  garrisons,  and  it  became  necessary 
that  Bayard  should  depart  also.  He  had  not  passed  his 
time  unprofitably,  nor  in  sports  wholly.  One  or  two  anec- 
dotes are  preserved  of  him  which  show  how  warmly  he 
felt,  and  how  fondly  he  remembered  former  benefits.  There 
was,  if  the  reader  will  remember,  a  groom  in  the  household 
of  Duke  Charles,  one  Pison  de  Chenas,  who  had  rendered 
Bayard  dutiful  service  while  in  his  apprenticeship,  and 
who  had  refused  all  compensation  at  the  time,  telling  him 
it  would  suffice  when  he.  Bayard,  had  become  famous.  A 
particular  circumstance  of  the  kind  will  be  remembered  cis 
occuiTing  at  the  very  moment  when  our  young  knight  was 
first  about  to  exhibit  his  horsemanship  before  the  king ;  and 
when,  to  encourage  the  groom  in  getting  his  horse  in  readi- 
ness, he  offered  to  present  him  with  his  dagger,  which  the 
latter  had  refused.  This  man  was  still  in  the  service  of 
the  duchess.  Bayard  did  not  need  to  be  reminded  of  his 
former  service.  He  sought  him  out,  took  him  to  his  lodg- 
ing where  he  entertained  him  handsomely,  and  then  pre- 
sented him  with  a  horse  worth  fifty  crowns.  Hearing,  fi'ora 
the  groom,  that  the  ancient  equeiTy  to  whom  he  had  been 
entrusted  while  with  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  was  now  gouty 
and  infirm  at  Montealier,  he  left  for  him,  in  trust  with  the 
groom,  a  good  and  handsome  mule.  He  thus  always  re- 
quited the  services  of  his  fiiends,  never  forgetting  in  man- 
hood the  benefactors  of  his  early  years. 

The  Lady  Blanche  parted  from  our  herewith  reluctance. 
She  felt  a  becoming  pride  in  having  contributed  to  the  train- 
ing of  so  courtly  and  gallant  a  gentleman ;  and  the  kind- 
ness of  her  farewell  was  only  another  foiTn  of  the  sweetest 
welcome.  Bayard  told  her  that  "  there  was  no  prince  or 
princess  in  the  world,  after  his  own  sovereign,  to  whose 
service  he  was  more  devoted ;  and  declared  the  joy  which 
he  should  feel  at  being  useful  in  her  cause."  She  thanked 
him  with  expressions  of  admiration,  in  which  she  was 
echoed  not  only  by  her  own  household,  but  by  the  voices 


68 


DEPARTURE    FROM    CARIGNAN. 


of  the  whole  town  of  Carignan ;  where,  says  the  "  loyal  ser- 
vant," nothing  was  talked  of  "  for  a  month  but  the  prowess, 
honor,  gentleness  and  courtesy  of  the  good  knight."  His 
parting  with  the  Lady  of  Fluxas  was  equally  tender  on 
both  sides.  He  was  greatly  moved,  and  her  tears  were 
fi'eely  shed.  Their  intercourse,  always  affectionate  and 
innocent,  lasted  till  subdued  by  death  ;  and  not  a  year  pass- 
ed without  an  interchange  of  gifts  between  them.  It  was 
probably  to  this  attachment  that  we  may  attribute  the  reso- 
lution of  our  hero  not  to  many.  A  heart  like  his,  formed 
for  an  attachment  equally  pure  and  tender,  could  only  have 
enjoyed  life  properly  in  the  connubial  state. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  arms  of  France,  meanwhile,  had  suffered  some  re- 
verses in  Italy.  The  force  left  to  garrison  the  several  towns 
which  had  been  taken  by  Louis  XII.  proved  inadequate  to 
the  purpose.  Ludovic  Sforza,  who  had  been  expelled 
from  Milan,  fled  to  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  whom  he  in 
vain  solicited  for  succors.  Being  not  wholly  without  mon- 
ey, however,  he  met  withtbetter  success  among  the  Swiss, 
from  whom  he  gathered  an  army  of  eight  thousand  men. 
With  this  force  and  that  of  his  own  Italian  levies  he  sud- 
denly descended  into  Italy,  and  gradually  repossessed  him- 
self of  most  of  the  cities  of  Milan.  The  inhabitants,  weary 
of  the  authority  of  the  stranger,  and  chafed  by  the  ex- 
cesses which  an  invading  and  conquering  army  are  always 
more  or  less  disposed  to  practice,  opened  their  gates  to 
their  ancient  master,  forgetting,  with  easy  caprice,  the  for- 
mer tyranny  under  the  immediate.  The  capital  city  of 
Milan  itself  was  thus  acquired  through  the  treachery  of  the 
citizens,  with  whom  Sforza  maintained  a  secret  intelligence. 
The  French  fought  valiantly  but  vainly,  and  still  kept  pos- 
session of  the  citadel,  by  which  the  town  was  commanded. 
Driven  out  from  other  places,  they  retired  slowly  and  sul- 
lenly, holding  their  gi'ound  where  they  could,  and  looking 
eagerly  for  those  succors  from  France  which  were  to  re- 
cover their  lost  possessions  and  avenge  their  shame.  The 
war,  for  a  season,  was  that  of  the  dagger  and  the  lance. 
The  French  gend'armerie  occasionally  dashed  out  upon  a 
convoy  and  carried  off  a  courier,  while  the  stiletto  of  the 
Italian  peasant  took  redress  upon  the  sleeping  or  the  strag- 
gling Frenchman. 

Such  a  mode  of  warfare  could  not  long  continue.     The 


70  THE    FRENCH    IN    ITALY. 

King  of  France  was  not  disposed  to  relinquish  his  conquest. 
Fresh  levies  were  made,  consisting  of  six  thousand  French 
and  ten  thousand  Swiss  mercenaries.  These,  commanded 
by  the  Count  de  Ligny  and  Trivulzio,  were  poured  over 
the  Alps,  and  again  threatened  destruction  to  the  House 
of  Sforza.  But,  in  order  not  to  lose  sight  of  our  young 
knight,  we  must  anticipate  the  arrival  of  these  new  troops, 
and  briefly  glance  at  the  condition  of  those  which  had  just 
been  expelled  from  the  cities  of  Milan.  They  had  found 
shelter  in  various  contiguous  places,  in  which  they  could  post 
themselves  strongly,  and  there  lay,  impatient  for  the  first 
signs  of  the  coming  of  their  comrades  to  their  relief.  Bay- 
ard, as  we  remember,  had  not  left  Italy.  Seizing  a  mo- 
ment of  respite  from  war,  he  had  paid  the  debt  of  grati- 
tude to  his  former  mistress ;  but  he  had  returned  in  season 
to  share  in  the  vicissitudes  of  his  countrymen.  The  re- 
verses which  the  French  had  sustained  were  not  even  soft- 
ened by  the  consciousness  of  a  noble  struggle.  There  had 
been  but  little  gallant  fighting  to  which  a  brave  captain 
could  refer  for  consolation  afi;er  defeat.  The  towns  had 
risen  and  opened  their  gates  to  the  forces  of  the  enemy, 
and  treachery  was  made  to  do  the  work  of  valor.  The 
French  knights  burned  with  shame  at  their  disasters,  and 
eagerly  desired  to  avenge  them.  By  none  of  them  was 
this  passion  more  earnestly  felt  than  by  our  young  cheva- 
lier. He  had  remained  in  Italy,  at  his  own  entreaty,  in 
anticipation  of  the  retura  of  Sforza,  and  of  battles  yet  to  be 
fought.  That  the  latter  should  return  only  to  victoiy — that 
the  French  should  be  defeated  without  conflict — was  a 
humiliation  quite  as  unexpected  to  Bayard  as  it  was 
difficult  to  bear  with  patience.  He  was  in  gamson  some 
twenty  miles  from  Milan,  afl;er  Sforza  had  repossessed 
himself  of  that  capital ;  and,  in  this  position,  he  soon  began 
to  display  those  talents  of  the  partisan  warrior  by  which  he 
afterward  won  such  great  distinction.  The  proximity  of 
the  Italians  kept  the  French  wakeful.     They  had  not  the 


BAYARD    SEEKS    ADVENTURE.  71 

force  to  attempt  any  enterprises,  but  they  kept  themselves 
in  readiness  for  the  performance,  whenever  opportunity 
should  offer,  by  the  practice  of  all  the  military  exercises 
of  the  day.  The  tourney  was  their  favorite  pastime.  Let 
it  not  be  conjectured  that,  because  of  the  pomps  and  festiv- 
ities which  usually  accompanied  these  sports,  they  were 
mere  pageants,  the  fruit  of  vanity,  having  no  object  but 
personal  display.  Undoubtedly,  an  appeal  was  made  to 
the  vanity  of  knighthood.  But  an  important  motive  lay 
beyond,  and  the  pomps  and  festivities  of  the  scene  were 
only  meant  to  reconcile  the  timid  to  its  real  dangers  and 
severities.  Hard  blows  were  to  be  given  and  to  be  en- 
dured. The  tourney  was  the  school  of  practice  for  the 
gend^armerie,  which,  at  this  period,  constituted  the  most 
important  part  of  a  French  army.  It  gave  them  the  secrets 
of  the  manege,  made  them  masters  of  spear,  sword  and 
battle-axe;  and,  until  the  general  adoption  of  firearms, 
constituted  them  the  true  arbiters  of  every  well-fought 
field. 

But  though  Bayard  practised  daily  with  his  comrades 
in  all  the  usual  exercises  of  the  soldier,  these  by  no  means 
sufficed  to  satisfy  his  courage.  He  longed  for  more  im- 
portant employment,  and  maintained  a  close  system  of 
espionage  upon  the  troops  of  the  enemy.  The  small  town 
of  Binasco  lay  at  a  little  distance  from  his  garrison.  Upon 
this  place  he  kept  his  eye.  It  was  held  by  a  body  of  Ital- 
ian horse,  three  hundred  in  number.  One  of  his  spies 
brought  him  tidings  which  led  to  the  conclusion  that  this 
force  might  easily  be  defeated.  The  spy  was  probably  a 
traitor,  and  in  the  pay  of  the  Italians  also ;  but  the  tempta- 
tion offered  by  the  prospect  of  combat  was  such  as  kept 
our  hero  fi'om  any  extreme  incredulity.  One  morning,  be- 
times, he  persuaded  some  forty  or  fifty  of  his  companions 
to  join  him  in  a  visit  to  Binasco.  They  set  forth  full  of 
spirits;  for  already  it  was  the  case  that  the  simple  word  of 
Bayard  was  quite  enough  to  inspire  his  comrades  with 


72  ENCOUNTERS    THE    ITALIANS. 

confidence  in  his  fortunes.  Their  inequality  of  number  did 
not  make  them  doubtful ;  for,  in  that  day,  it  was  usual  with 
the  French  knights,  lating  the  Italians,  to  hold  them  as 
humbly  as,  in  after  times,  the  British  affected  to  hold  the 
French  themselves.  The  captain  at  Binasco,  whose  name 
was  Cazache,  was  ready  for  them.  He  smiled  grimly  at 
the  approaching  adventure.  He  was  a  brave  fellow,  well 
practised  in  war,  and  always  on  the  alert.  He  had  been 
apprised  of  the  coming  of  our  Frenchmen,  and  prepared 
for  the  conflict,  putting  himself  in  a  good  posture  of  de- 
ence,  having  drawn  out  his  whole  force  a  couple  of  bow- 
shot from  the  gates  of  the  town.  The  smallness  of  the 
party  led  by  Bayard  encouraged  him,  satisfied  that  his 
troop  was  sufficient  to  overwhelm  them.  When,  there- 
fore, the  French  came  on  with  the  war-cry  of,  "  France ! 
France  !"  they  were  nothing  daunted,  but  answering  with 
"Moor!  Moor!"*  hurried  to  the  encounter.  The  shock 
was  terrible;  but  few  of  either  party  kept  their  saddles, 
and  many  never  recovered  them  again.  Bayard  was  busy 
all  the  while,  solicitous  only  for  the  proper  disposition  of 
his  enemies.  "  Whoever  had  seen  him,"  says  one  of  his 
biographers,  "  doing  martial  deeds,  cutting  off"  heads,  and 
hewing  arms  and  legs,  would  have  sooner  taken  him  for  a 
wild  lion  of  the  forest  than  a  tender-hearted  lover."  But 
Cazache  was  not  so  easily  overcome.  Bayard  and  his 
Frenchmen  might  do  wonders,  but  the  odds  were  very  fear- 
fully against  them.  The  combat  had  already  lasted  more 
than  an  hour,  and  the  victory  was  still  doubtful.  Our  young 
knight  felt  the  necessity  of  concentrating  all  his  abilities  on 
a  final  effort.  **  How,  my  comrades,"  he  cried  to  his  coun- 
trymen, "  shall  these  keep  us  all  day  at  work  1  Let  us 
take  heart  and  beat  them  off"  the  field ;  for  if  those  yet  in  the 
town  come  to  hear  of  it,  we  shall  not  one  of  us  escape." 
He  did  not  wait  for  their  answer — did  not  pause  to  see 
whether  he  was  supported  or  if  he  fought  alone — but 
*  Sforza  was  so  called  on  account  of  the  darkness  of  his  complexioa 


PURSUES    THE'  FOE    INTO    MILAN.  73 

dashed  forward  with  rare  and  reckless  intrepidity  upon 
the  masses  of  the  Lombards.  His  comrades  answered  to 
his  call.  His  words,  his  voice,  his  desperate  charge,  earned 
them  forward  as  irresistibly  as  they  did  himself  Darting 
all  at  once,  headlong,  upon  the  opposing  ranks,  they  tore 
the  enemy  asunder.  These  yielded,  slowly  at  first,  and 
still  disputing  every  inch  of  the  ground.  But  the  sharp  and 
repeated  onslaughts  of  the  French  chivalry  were  not  to  be 
withstood,  and  the  retreat  became  a  flight.  Whether  pre- 
meditatedly  or  through  terror,  the  fugitives  made  their  way 
toward  Milan.  It  is  probable  that  the  French  had  con- 
trived to  throw  themselves  between  them  and  Binasco. 
The  impulse  to  pursuit  was  irresistible.  Smiting  as  they 
flew,  our  Frenchmen  drove  their  enemies  before  them. 
Bayard,  well  mounted,  with  the  wild  impetuosity  of  his  na- 
ture, kept  ii\i  advance  of  his  troop.  They  cried  to  him  to 
return.  He  heard  them  not.  They  drew  back,  as  the  fugi- 
tives rushed  through  the  gates  of  Milan  ;  but  he  left  them  be- 
hind him,  and,  unconscious  that  he  was  alone — unconscious 
of  any  thing  but  that  he  was  successfully  striking  at  his  foe — 
he  burst  into  Milan  at  the  heels  of  the  enemy,  carrying 
slaughter  to  the  very  palace  of  the  duke.  It  was  only 
when  he  heard  the  clangor  of  the  gates  closing  behind  him 
that  he  becamQ.  conscious  of  the  novelty  and  danger  of  his 
situation.  The  three  white  crosses  which  he  bore,  the 
badge  of  the  French,  announced  him  to  the  people  of  the 
tovm  as  a  foe.  "  Piglia  !  piglia !"  "  Take  him !  take  him  !" 
was  the  cry  of  the  citizens.  Then  it  was  that  Cazache, 
with  his  fugitives,  turned  upon  him,  and  our  young  knight 
was  suiTounded  on  every  hand.  He  was  yet  a  very  youth- 
ful and  inexperienced  warrior — certainly  a  rash  one,  and 
not  aware  that,  if  courage  is  the  wing  of  combat,  prudence 
is  her  eye  and  shield.  He  had  yet  much  to  leam  of  that 
mixed  audacity  and  caution  which  made  him  famous  in 
afi;er-days,  and  which  constitutes  the  great  essential  of  the 
partisan  warrior.     To  oppose  resistance  to  such  a  crowd  as 

G 


74  BAYARD    A    CAPTIVE. 

that  by  which  he  saw  himself  surrounded  would  be  to 
crown  his  rashness  by  a  worse  folly.  He  yielded,  therefore, 
with  a  becoming  grace  to  Cazache,  who  was  confounded  to 
find  him  so  youthful.  At  this  time  he  was  not  more  than 
twenty-three  years  old.  Sforza,  who  had  been  disturbed 
by  the  tumult,  was  soon  made  acquainted  with  the  event. 
The  audacious  gallant  was  conducted  to  the  presence  of 
the  duke.  His  appearance  pleased  Sforza.  The  modest 
dignity  of  his  bearing,  the  sweetness  of  his  manner,  the 
grace  and  spirit  of  his  replies,  and  the  gentle  mood  with 
which  he  resigned  himself  to  fortune,  were,  in  one  so 
young,  equally  new  and  grateful  to  his  captor. 

"  Come  hither,"  said  the  duke,  "  and  tell  me,  young 
gentleman,  what  it  is  hath  brought  you  into  this  town." 

"  Faith,  my  lord,"  said  Bayard,  no  ways  daunted,  "  I 
did  not  think  to  enter  it  alone,  and  supposed  that  my  com- 
rades were  at  my  back.  But  they  were  better  soldiers 
than  myself,  else  they  had  shared  my  captivity.  Howbeit, 
my  lord,  with  the  exception  of  this  mishap,  I  commend  my 
fortune  which  hath  placed  me  in  the  hands  of  so  good  a 
conqueror." 

Sforza  asked  him  to  declare,  upon  his  honor,  the  num- 
ber of  the  troops  in  the  army  of  the  king  of  France. 

"  On  my  soul,  my  lord,"  was  the  ready  answer,  "  they 
consist  of  some  fifteen  hundred  men-at-arms,  and  sixteen  or 
eighteen  thousand  foot.  But  they  are  picked  men,  and  will 
labor  diligently  till  they  secure  this  State  of  Milan  for  the 
king,  my  master.  It  appears  to  me,  my  lord  duke,  that 
you  were  quite  as  safe  in  Germany  as  here.  Your  people 
cannot  match  with  us  in  war." 

The  duke  affected  to  be  pleased  with  the  boldness  of  this 
reply,  and  no  doubt  was,  so  far  as  he  thought  of  Bayard 
himself;  but  the  opinions  which  the  latter  gave  were  not 
calculated  to  afford  him  pleasure ;  and  it  required  an  effort 
to  enable  him  to  say,  jestingly,  that  he  cared  but  little  for 
the  boasted  prowess  of  the  French. 


IS    RELEASED    BY    SFORZA.  75 

"  On  my  honor,  young  gentleman,"  said  he,  "  I  have  no 
greater  wish  than  to  see  our  armies  meet  in  battle,  that 
we  may  know  to  whom  this  territory  rightly  belongeth. 
There  seems  to  me  no  other  way  of  settling  our  affairs." 

*'  By  my  troth,  my  good  lord,"  was  the  prompt  reply  of 
Bayard,  "  and  I  would  it  were  to-morrow,  provided  I 
were  out  of  these  bonds." 

Ludovic  Sforza  was  capable  of  a  generous  action.  The 
youth's  deportment  had  charmed  him ;  and  it  was,  perhaps, 
his  policy  to  appear  magnanimous. 

"  Truly,  it  shall  not  stick  there,"  he  responded  to  the 
ardent  expression  of  our  young  knight,  "  for  I  set  you  free 
from  this  moment.  Ask  what  you  will  of  me  and  it  shall 
be  granted." 

Bayard,  equally  surprised  and  delighted  with  this  noble 
courtesy,  knelt  in  making  his  acknowledgements — knelt, 
in  the  language  of  his  contemporaries,  "«5  was  right,^^  and 
thus  expressed  himself: 

"  My  lord,  I  can  ask  nothing  further  at  your  hands, 
except  that  you  will  so  far  extend  your  courtesy  as  to 
vouchsafe  me  my  horse  and  arms,  and  grant  me  an  escort 
to  my  gaiTison,  which  is  twenty  miles  from  hence.  You 
have  already  done  me  a  very  great  favor,  for  which  I  shall 
be  thankful  all  my  life ;  and  so  far  as  it  may  comport  with 
the  sei'vice  of  the  king,  my  master,  and  my  own  honor,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  obey  you  in  whatever  you  may  command." 

The  armor  of  Bayard  was  sent  for,  and  Sforza  made  him 
arm  himself  in  his  presence.  His  steed  was  brought,  ready 
saddled,  into  the  court.  When  equipped,  our  young  and 
agile  knight,  vdth  a  buoyant  heart,  leapt  upon  him  without 
putting  foot  in  stirrup.  Then,  asking  for  a  lance,  he  raised 
his  visor  and  exclaimed,  "  My  lord,  I  thank  you  for  your 
courtesy — may  God  requite  you !"  The  scene  took  place 
in  a  large  and  beautiful  court.  Bayard  put  spurs  to  his 
horse,  sending  him  forward  in  a  succession  of  bounds,  in 
which  he  had   practised  him — then  coursing  him  fi'eely 


76 


REJOINS    THE    FRENCH. 


around,  he  shivered  the  lance  which  had  been  given  him 
against  the  ground,  as  handsomely  as  if  it  had  been  the 
breast  of  an  enemy.  All  this  was  done  in  the  presence 
of  Sforza,  and  by  way  of  acknowledgment  for  his  courte- 
sy; but  it  afforded  little  pleasure  to  that  person,  who 
exclaimed : 

"  Verily,  if  all  the  French  gens  d^arins  were  such  as  this, 
I  should  be  at  a  fearful  pass." 

But  he  did  not  regret  his  liberality,  or  seek  to  recal  the 
gift  of  liberty  which  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  youth. 
This  he  might  have  done,  at  that  period  of  faithlessness, 
without  incurring  any  reproach  of  his  contemporaries.  But 
Sforza  was  in  his  better  moods,  and  the  noble  bearing  and 
frank  grace  of  our  Chevalier,  so  unwonted  in  his  eyes, 
were  not  to  be  resisted.  His  departure  was  uninterrupted, 
and  under  the  escort  of  a  trumpet  he  had  gone  but  ten  or 
twelve  miles  from  Milan,  when  he  met,  in  full  march, 
the  banners  of  his  countrymen.  The  whole  army  of  the 
French  was  approaching.  The  news  of  his  wild  and 
indiscreet  valor,  and  his  subsequent  capture,  had  already 
reached  them.  Their  astonishment  was  great  at  his  reap- 
pearance. Instances  of  generosity  like  that  of  Sforza  were 
not  looked  for ;  and  nothing  but  money — or  ransom  corre- 
sponding with  the  supposed  value  of  the  capture  to  his 
friends — could  ordinarily  remove  the  knight's  bonds.  The 
Count  de  Ligny  came  forth  to  meet  the  captive. 

**  Ah !  Piquet,"  he  cried,  laughingly,  "  who  hath  paid 
your  ransom  ]  How  are  you  released  from  prison "?  In 
truth,  I  was  about  to  despatch  one  of  my  trumpets  to  dis- 
charge it." 

Bayard  recounted  the  particulars  of  all  that  had  taken 
place.  Trivulzio,  one  of  the  generals  of  the  army,  then 
inquired  whether  there  were  any  hopes,  from  what  he  saw 
or  heard,  that  Sforza  would  give  them  battle.  The  young 
knight  answered — 

"  Truly,  my  lord,  he  let  me  not  so  far  into  his  councils, 


SFORZA    ABANDONED    BY    HIS    TROOPS.  77 

but  he  looks  like  one  whom  it  is  not  easy  to  daunt.  Yet  a 
few  days  must  determine,  as  most  of  his  troops  are  in 
Novara,  and  he  hath  resolved  upon  joining  them  there,  or 
sending  for  them  to  Milan.  For  my  part,  I  must  not  speak 
iU  of  him,  for  he  hath  behaved  well  and  honorably  toward 
me!" 

In  a  few  days  Sforza  was  himself  a  prisoner,  without, 
however,  experiencing  any  of  that  generosity  of  which  he 
had  just  given  so  grateful  an  example.  But  Bayard  has 
no  share  in  this  reproach.  The  French  moved  immedi- 
ately forward  upon  Milan.  Its  citadel  was  aheady  in 
their  hands.  The  heart  of  Sforza  failed  him  at  their  ap- 
proach. He  was  badly  served  by  his  troops,  and  the  vari- 
ous nations  of  which  his  army  was  composed  afforded  good 
reason  to  make  him  doubtful  of  their  fidelity.  His  watch 
must  have  been  badly  kept  to  have  suffered  the  French  to 
appear  wdthin  striking  distance  while  their  approach  was 
totally  unsuspected.  The  unhappy  duke  fled  by  night 
from  Milan,  leaving  but  a  few  troops  with  his  brother, 
Cardinal  Ascanio.  He  made  his  way  to  the  main  body 
of  his  forces  at  Novara,  whither  the  French  pursued  him. 
He  was  destined  to  be  overcome  by  that  veiy  treachery 
which  had  been  his  own  favorite  and  frequent  pohcy.  The 
Swiss  in  his  sei-vice  had  again  sold  themselves.  At  the 
moment  when  he  required  their  fidelity  they  abandoned 
him.  His  forces  were  superior  in  number  to  the  French, 
and  he  led  them  out  of  Novara  for  the  purpose  of  doing 
battle,  confident  of  success.  His  aiTay  was  drawn  forth  for 
this  purpose,  yet,  when  the  signal  was  about  to  be  made,  the 
lansquenets  refused  to  fight  against  their  countrymen  who 
were  in  the  ranks  of  the  enemy.  The  French,  meanwhile, 
marching  to  the  charge,  the  Milanese  army  surrendered 
without  striking  a  blow.  The  unfortunate  prince  attempt- 
ed his  escape  by  disguising  himself,  and  mingling  in  the 
ranks  of  his  soldiers — his  followers  having  first  cii'culated 
a  report  that  he  was  already  fled  and  on  his  way  to  Ger- 


78  '  SPORZA    A    CAPTIVE. 

many.  But  the  same  treachery  which  had  betrayed  his 
seignorial  rights  most  probably  betrayed  his  person.  The 
method  of  his  disguise  was  no  doubt  indicated  to  the  French 
general,  who  made  the  vanquished  army  pass  under  the 
pikcj  and  tlius  detected  the  unhappy  fugitive.  The  fates 
decided  against  him,  though  he  kept  an  astrologer  in  his 
pay,  and  had  marched  into  the  field  with  the  fullest  as- 
surances of  victory.  After  an  eventful  history,  he  was 
about  to  be  made  secure  against  future  vicissitudes.  His 
career  had  been  of  a  kind  distinguished  by  crime  and 
treachery  no  less  than  courage  and  talent,  which  was  sup- 
posed to  justify  the  severity  which  he  encountered  among 
the  French.  Conveyed  to  the  Castle  of  Loches,  in  the 
duchy  of  Belli,  he  was  kept  in  a  magnificently  cheerless 
prison,  where  he  contrived  to  amuse  the  hours  of  weari- 
ness by  covering  the  walls  of  his  chamber  with  rude  draw- 
ings from  scripture,  done  in  charcoal.  But  this  sort  of 
employment  failed  him  at  last ;  and  he  languished  thus  for 
ten  years,  alive  but  scarcely  living,  and  only  released  from 
his  prison  when  released  from  life.  His  generosity  to  our 
young  knight  makes  us  willing  to  forget  his  crimes  and 
errors  ;  and,  in  sympathizing  with  his  misfortunes,  we  al- 
most persuade  ourselves  that  he  did  not  deserve  them. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  French  recovered  the  cities  of  the  Milanese  as  rap* 
idly  as  they  had  been  lost,  and  with  quite  as  little  fighting. 
The  inhabitants,  who  dreaded  nothing  more  than  being 
sacked  and  plundered,  were  as  eager  in  their  submission 
to  Louis  XII.  as  they  had  been  to  Sforza.  In  the  in- 
vasion of  Italy  by  Charles  VIII.,  that  monarch  had  dis- 
tiibuted  the  captured  towns  among  his  favorites.  To  the 
Count  de  Ligny  had  been  given  Tortona,  Loghiera,  and 
sundry  other  places.  They  had,  like  Milan,  availed  them- 
selves of  the  approach  of  Sforza  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of 
the  French ;  and,  in  the  final  overthrow  of  the  former,  they 
naturally  expected  the  penalties  due  to  revolting  subjects. 
When,  therefore,  they  heard  of  the  near  approach  of  the 
Count  de  Ligny,  breathing  fire  and  sword,  they  were  seized 
with  the  greatest  consternation.  The  count  was  accom- 
panied by  his  famous  lieutenant,  Louis  D'Ars,  and  his 
standard  was  borne  by  our  good  knight.  Bayard.  When 
at  Alessandria,  he  declared  his  resolution  to  yield  Tortona 
and  Loghiera  to  his  soldiers  for  pillage,  though  vdthout 
really  entertaining  such  a  purpose.  His  scheme  was  simply 
to  alarm  the  fears  of  a  people,  whose  habitual  levity  made 
them  too  easily  forgetful  of  the  salutary  lessons  of  defeat. 
His  secret  feelings  were  known  to  his  lieutenant,  who  was 
permitted  to  act  as  advocate  for  his  repentant  subjects. 
They  came  to  him  from  these  towns,  formidable  deputa- 
tions, clad  in  garments  of  humility  and  entreating  mercy. 
They  met  him  when  within  two  miles  of  Loghiera,  and  be- 
gan their  excuses  of  former  faithlessness,  with  fi-esh  assur- 
ances of  fidelity.    But  the  count  passed  on,  without  seeming 


80  YM    VICTIS. 

to  have  seen  or  heard  them.  This  increased  their  terrors, 
and  they  addressed  themselves  to  Louis  D'Ars,  M^ho  prom- 
ised to  solicit  their  forgiveness.  He  succeeded  in  obtaining 
the  desired  audience,  and  fifty  of  the  piincipal  citizens 
appeared  at  the  lodgings  of  the  count,  bareheaded,  and 
threw  themselves  at  his  feet,  entreating  "  mercy."  One  of 
their  chief  men  then  addressed  him  very  eloquently,  be- 
seeching forgiveness.  He  acknowledged  the  crime  of  which 
they  had  been  guilty,  but  pleaded  their  inability  to  hold 
out  against  the  armed  forces  of  Sforza.  Their  affections, 
he  said,  had  always  been,  and  still  were,  with  the  French. 
Their  offence,  at  worst,  had  been  their  timidity;  and  this 
he  promised  should  never  again  conduct  them  to  a  similar 
trespass.  He  put  their  wdves,  children  and  possessions  at 
the  disposal  of  the  count,  as  a  guaranty  for  their  fiiture 
conduct,  and  concluded  by  tendering  a  present  of  silver 
plate,  to  the  value  of  three  hundred  marks. 

The  basins,  cups  and  goblets,  covering  two  tables,  were 
produced  and  spread  before  the  angry  captain.  But  he 
deigned  them  not  a  single  glance.  It  was  necessary  that  his 
part  should  be  played  out  as  he  had  begun  it ;  and,  with  fury 
in  his  accents,  he  demanded  how  they  dared  present  them- 
selves before  him,  supposing  it  possible  that  he  should 
pardon.  "  Have  you  not,  without  cause  or  provocation, 
but  like  traitors  and  cowards  as  ye  are,  revolted  at  the 
first  appearance  of  the  enemy.  How  can  I  believe  in  you 
again.  Had  your  town  been  assaulted,  had  you  made 
good  fight,  it  had  been  another  thing ;  but  you  waited  not 
even  that  the  enemy  should  show  his  face.  If  I  served  you 
right,  you  should  now,  each  of  you,  be  hanging  at  your 
own  windows.  Away  with  you.  Let  me  never  see  you 
more." 

Here  Captain  Louis  D'Ars,  taking  off  his  cap,  judi- 
ciously and  humanely  interposed.  "  My  lord,  for  the  honor 
of  God  and  his  passion,  let  me  entreat  you  to  pardon  this 
people.     Grant  this  boon  to  me,  as  I  have  promised  that 


THE    GTFTS    OP    BAYARD.  81 

you  would,  and  I  trust  that  you  will  find  them  true  and 
faithful  henceforward."  The  deputation,  with  one  voice, 
echoed  the  promise  of  fidelity  which  the  captain  had  made 
for  them.  The  count  had  already  forgiven  them  in  his 
heart.  Their  tears  and  humiliation  provoked  his  pity, 
and,  almost  weeping  himself,  he  bade  them  rise. 

"Go,"  said  he;  "the  entreaties  of  my  lieutenant  have 
won  your  forgiveness.  His  services  to  me  might  well 
obtain  for  him  a  much  gi-eater  matter.  Go  ;  you  are  par- 
doned, but  beware  how  you  eiT  again.  As  for  your  present, 
you  deserve  not  that  I  should  take  it  at  your  hands.  Pi- 
quet!" addressing  Bayard,  "Take  this  plate — all  of  it — 
I  give  it  you  for  your  kitchen." 

If  the  astonishment  of  the  deputation  was  great  at  this 
scornful  rejection  of  so  rich  a  gift,  the  reply  of  Bayard  was 
productive  of  still  greater  surprise  in  the  mind  of  tlie  count 
himself,  not  less  than  of  all  other  spectators. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  lord,  for  the  favor  you  would  do  me, 
but  God  forbid  that  the  goods  of  such  wicked  people  should 
enter  my  house.     They  would  bring  me  ill  luck." 

This  said,  he  took  the  several  vessels,  piece  by  piece, 
and  distributed  them  among  the  spectators,  reserving  noth- 
ing for  himself  The  deputation  disappeared  in  doubt  and 
wonderment,  and  Bayard  followed  them.  When  he  had 
left  the  apartment,  the  Count  de  Ligny  exclaimed,  "  What 
say  you,  my  lords,  to  this  spirit  of  Piquet  I  Hath  not  for- 
tune done  him  gi-eat  wrong  in  not  making  him  the  monarch 
of  some  mighty  realm  ]  He  would  then  have  won  the 
whole  world  by  his  magnificence.  Believe  me,  he  will  yet 
become  one  of  the  most  perfect  characters  on  earth." 

The  admii-ation  of  the  count  was  not  affected.  He  was 
determined  that  the  generosity  of  Bayard  should  not  leave 
him  bare,  and  the  next  day  sent  him  a  beautiful  dress  of 
crimson  velvet,  an  excellent  horse,  and  a  purse  of  three 
hundred  crowns.  The  money  was  instantly  shared  with 
his  comrades.     It  was  the  distinguishing  merit  of  his  chiv- 


82  THE    ARMY    AGAINST    NAPLES. 

airy  that  in  all  cases  it  rose  superior  to  self.  No  accusa- 
tion of  ingratitude,  of  a  want  of  liberality  or  magnanimity, 
could  be  laid  to  his  account.  To  divide  his'  purse  with  his 
friend — with  the  stranger — to  yield  himself  up  to  the  ne- 
cessities of  others,  and  to  betray  the  profoundest  scorn  and 
contempt  for  most  of  the  objects  of  human  avarice,  was 
simply  to  be  himself,  and  to  behave  according  to  the  most 
natural  impulse  of  his  soul.  The  examples  are  continually 
occurring  of  his  indifference  to  money.  At  the  moment 
when  he  rejected  the  splendid  present  of  the  Count  de 
Ligny  he  had  not  ten  crowns  in  the  world,  and  knew  not 
where  he  could  procure  them ! 

This  invasion  of  Milan  had  afforded  our  young  knight 
but  small  chance  for  distinguishing  himself.  The  Count 
de  Ligny  soon  returned  to  Milan;  and  the  conquered  cities 
being  once  more  quiet,  he  returned  to  France,  accompanied 
by  our  man-at-arms,  who  was,  if  we  remember,  not  only 
of  his  regiment,  but  of  his  household.  Here  he  remained 
until  the  preparations  of  Louis  XII.  had  been  completed 
for  the  attempted  recovery  of  his  Neapolitan  dominions. 
We  have  already  briefly  narrated  the  events  connected 
with  the  expulsion  of  the  French  from  Naples  and  the 
other  places  where  the  feeble  policy  of  Charles  VIII.  had 
insulated  them,  and  where  his  follies  and  superstitions  had 
left  them  the  sacrifice  to  his  indifference  and  neglect.  The 
invasion,  which  he  consumed  the  last  days  of  his  life  in  medi- 
tating only, — his  successor,  with  undeviating  perseverance, 
applied  himself  to  attempt.  How  he  strove  to  secure  the 
support  or  the  quiescence  of  other  sovereigns  has  been 
shown  already.  His  precautions  taken,  his  preparations 
made,  the  army  of  the  French  monarch,  consisting  of  ten 
thousand  foot  and  one  thousand  horse,  approached  Italy, 
under  the  command  of  Stuart  d'Aubigny.  This  command 
had  been  earnestly  solicited  by  the  Count  de  Ligny.  He 
supposed  himself  to  have  particular  claims  to  be  prefeiTed. 
His  interests  were  considerable  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples. 


PARTITION    OF    NAPLES.  83 

He  had  married  a  lady  of  that  country,  and  by  her,  and  by 
the  gifts  of  Charles  VIII.,  he  was  the  proprietor  of  lands  in 
Puglia,  Venosa,  and  other  places,  the  whole  constituting 
a  veiy  large  pecuniary  interest.  Denied  the  command 
which  he  desired,  he  is  thought  to  have  sunk  under  the 
mortification.  The  event  is  supposed  to  have  shortened 
his  days ;  and  when  Bayard  obtained  his  leave  to  join  the 
company  under  Louis  d'Ars,  he  separated  from  his  patron 
never  to  behold  him  again. 

At  this  period  Frederigo,  king  of  Naples,  was  in  close 
alliance  wdth  Spain.  He  never  dreamed  of  the  secret 
treaty  between  the  selfish  and  faithless  monai'ch  of  that 
country  and  the  King  of  France.  On  the  contrary,  so  as- 
sured was  he  of  the  fidelity  of  the  former,  that  his  troops 
and  fortified  places  were  confided,  on  the  approach  of  the 
French,  to  the  Spanish  general — the  celebrated  Gonsalvo 
de  Cordova — the  Great  Captain,  as  he  was  proverbially 
known  among  the  Spaniards — a  wanior  of  unquestionable 
excellence  and  genius — of  equal  courage  and  conduct,  but 
one  who  proved  as  faithless  as  his  master.  Fidelity  was 
not  in  those  days  the  virtue  of  knighthood,  and  hence  the 
superior  lustre  with  which  the  qualities  of  Bayard  distin- 
guished his  valor.     But  we  must  not  anticipate. 

All  Italy  was  suspended  in  tremulous  anxiety  at  the  ap- 
proach of  the  French  aimy.  They  were  led  by  one  of  the 
most  experienced  leaders  of  his  time,  and  opposed  to  one 
of  the  most  renowned,  with  numbers  so  nearly  equal,  and 
forces  so  equally  excellent,  none  but  the  most  bloody  issues 
could  be  expected  from  the  encounter.  But  the  entrance 
of  the  French  troops  into  the  territories  of  the  Church  dis- 
pelled all  anxiety.  The  envoys  of  the  allied  monarch s 
met  at  Rome,  where  they  announced  their  treaty,  and  de- 
clared the  division  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples  between  them. 
A  pontifical  bull  deprived  Frederigo  of  his  kingdom,  and 
the  forces  under  Gonsalvo  abandoned  his  defence.  Fred- 
erigo still  held  out,  but  hopelessly.     The  defence  of  Naples 


84  CAPUA    TAKEN    BY    ASSAULT. 

was  entrusted  to  Prospero  Colonna,  a  very  distinguished 
Italian  captain ;  and  the  first  trial  of  strength  was  made  at 
Capua,  which  was  taken  by  assault.  The  capitulation  of 
Naples  soon  followed;  and  Frederigo,  in  despair  of  his 
throne,  exchanged  it  for  a  duchy,  and  became  a  pensioner 
of  France. 

The  war  had  again  failed  of  its  promise  to  our  young 
knight.  We  have  no  means  of  knowing  what  part  he  took 
in  the  storming  of  Capua,  or  whether  he  was  or  was  not 
present.  We  may  safely  assert  that  he  did  not  participate 
in  the  sack  which  followed,  and  the  guilty  excesses  which 
are  charged  upon  the  French  soldiery  when  they  were 
once  in  possession  of  the  city.  The  excitement  of  battle  is 
a  species  of  madness  which,  in  the  instance  of  mere  brute 
valor,  is  almost  without  responsibility.  The  teiTors  of  a 
storm  must  heighten  amazingly  the  insanity  of  ordinary 
combat.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  suppose  such  an  event 
without  assuming  the  continuance  of  violence  and  passion 
long  after  the  absolute  necessity  is  over,  by  which  they 
have  been  provoked  and  justified.  At  all  events,  the  sub- 
ordinate position  of  our  young  knight  saved  him  firom  any 
share  in  the  responsibility  of  a  command  on  this  occasion ; 
and  we  know  enough  already  of  his  character  to  feel  very 
sure  that  he  himself  indulged  in  none  of  the  excesses  of  his 
troops. 

The  conquest  of  the  realm  of  Naples  being  fully 
achieved,  the  army  of  the  French  was  broken  up  into  small 
bodies  and  distributed  throughout  the  conquered  temto- 
ries.  The  command  of  the  Count  de  Ligny  was  quartered 
upon  the  seignorial  domain  of  that  lord — a  possession  which 
he  had  acquired  by  right  of  his  wife,  Elinor  de  Baux, 
princess  of  Altamira.  The  count  had  espoused  this  lady 
in  the  brief  period  during  which  Charles  VIII.  had  held 
his  court  in  Naples ;  and  when  the  French  were  compelled 
to  abandon  their  conquests,  the  departure  of  her  husband 
is  said  to  have  caused  her  death.     The  protector  of  these 


FRENCH    AND    SPANIARDS    aUARREL.  85 

domains  was  especially  confided  by  his  captain  to  the  vigi- 
lance and  courage  of  our  young  knight,  who  acquitted 
himself  of  the  trust  to  the  general  satisfaction. 

Meanwhile,  the  royal  plunderers  quaiTelled  over  their 
prey.  The  division  of  the  spoils  was  a  subject  of  more 
difficulty  to  the  French  and  Spaniards  than  their  acquisition 
had  been.  In  the  partition  of  the  country  it  appeal's  that 
they  had  not  sufficiently  known  the  landmarks,  or  that  they 
were  now  pleased  to  misconceive  them.  The  claims  of  the 
Spanish  monarch  were  urged  tenaciously  by  Gonsalvo, 
while  those  of  France  were  as  warmly  upheld  by  Louis 
d'Armagnac,  duke  de  Nemours,  who  asserted  the  general 
rights  of  his  sovereign  as  king  of  Naples,  and  maintained 
his  arms  in  that  country.  Negotiations  followed,  but  with- 
out any  good  result,  and  the  dispute  resulted  in  open  hos- 
tilities between  the  allies.  Italy  was  again  made  to  trem- 
ble at  the  trial  of  strength,  on  her  own  fields,  between 
the  rival  houses  of  Anjou  and  Arragon.  Gonsalvo  had 
anticipated  this  issue,  and  had  kept  himself  in  readiness 
for  it. 

The  French,  on  the  other  hand,  had  received  a  reinforce- 
ment of  two  thousand  Swiss  and  a  body  of  Gascons,  and 
were  somewhat  stronger,  numerically,  than  the  Spaniards. 
To  compensate  this  inequality,  the  latter  were  more  cer- 
tainly in  possession  of  the  popular  sympathies,  in  spite  of 
the  treachery  of  their  master  to  the  late  sovereign  of  Italy. 
The  excesses  of  the  French  troops  and  their  Swiss  merce- 
naries, had  most  effectually  weaned  fi'om  them  the  affec- 
tions of  the  Italians.  The  viceroy  of  Louis  XII.,  the  Duke 
de  Nemours,  was  now  pitted  against  Gonsalvo.  D'Aubig- 
ny,  second  in  command,  but  the  best  officer,  marched  with 
a  division  into  Calabria,  while  Louis  himself,  the  French 
monarch,  hurried  from  Lyons  to  Milan,  where  he  tarried 
to  watch  the  progress  of  a  game,  for  the  issue  of  which  he 
was  naturally  anxious. 

The  opening  of  the  war  was  greatly  favorable  to  the 
H 


86  SIEGE    OF    BARLETTA. 

French.  Gonsalvo  was  forced  to  relinquish  all  the  places 
of  which  he  held  possession,  and  to  retire  for  safety  to  the 
town  of  Barletta,  where  he  was  soon  closely  besieged  by 
the  Duke  de  Nemours.  Similar  successes  attended  the 
progress  of  D'Aubigny,  who,  having  taken  and  sacked  the 
city  of  Cosenza,  defeated  a  large  body  of  Spanish  and  Si- 
cilian troops,  oveiTun  with  his  forces  the  rest  of  the  king- 
dom, to  all  of  which,  having  full  possession,  Louis  asserted 
his  claim,  without  regard  to  his  previous  treaty  stipulations. 
With  his  troops  everywhere  triumphant,  and  with  the 
strongholds  of  the  country  everywhere  in  their  hands,  the 
French  monarch  returned  to  his  own  country  in  full  confi- 
dence of  the  complete  expulsion  of  the  Spaniards.  But 
the  obstinacy  of  this  people,  and  of  the  captain  to  whom 
they  were  confided,  rendered  this  confidence  more  and 
more  doubtfiil  every  day.  The  siege  of  Barletta  was  a 
protracted  one,  calculated  to  wear  out  the  patience  of  an 
ardent  and  impetuous  soldiery  such  as  the  Duke  de  Ne- 
mours commanded.  Its  monotony  was  relieved,  however, 
by  the  frequent  passages-at-arms  which  took  place  between 
the  opposing  forces.  Many  of  these  were  of  a  character 
as  brilliant  as  any  which  the  chroniclers  of  chivalrous  times 
have  put  on  record.  The  defence  of  Barletta  itself  was  an 
instance  of  amazing  patience,  courage,  prudence  and  self- 
denial;  showing  instances  of  skill,  heroism  and  audacity 
which  could  not  be  surpassed,  and  contributing  one  of  the 
most  enduring  chaplets  in  the  wreath  of  the  Great  Captain. 
The  great  events  of  the  field  were  varied  by  those  in  which 
individual  combatants  alone  performed.  These  were  equal- 
ly singular  from  the  fierceness  of  the  duel  and  the  chivalric 
courtesy  with  which  the  champions  coupled  their  animosity. 
For  a  brief  period  the  age  of  feudal  romance  was  restored, 
and  the  grace  and  splendor  of  the  strife  were  quite  equal  to 
its  terrors  and  its  blood.  Holding  keen  watch  in  garrison 
near  Barletta,  at  a  place  called  Monei-vino,  some  of  these 
events  concern  our  hero.     He  was  not  the  last  to  fly  to  the 


BAYARD    SEEKING    ADVENTURES.  87 

summons  of  the  trumpet ;  and  here  it  is  that  his  character 
began  first  to  receive  the  appreciation  of  other  nations  than 
his  own. 

There  had  been  an  interval  of  repose  and  inactivity 
somewhat  longer  than  was  usual,  when  Bayard  expressed 
his  impatience  to  his  comrades. 

*'  Gentlemen,"  said  he  one  day  to  his  troopers,  "  we  are 
likely  to  become  very  worthless  in  this  state  of  sluggish- 
ness and  inactivity.  We  shall  impart  courage  to  our  ene- 
mies by  our  seeming  want  of  it.  I  am  sick  of  this  idling. 
Let  us  go  out  to-morrow  and  stir  up  the  Spaniards.  Be- 
tween this  place  and  Andri,  or  B arietta,  we  may  happen 
upon  some  of  their  detachments,  and  then  the  victory  to 
whom  God  shall  please  to  give  it !" 

These  words  were  quite  acceptable  to  his  companions. 
Under  such  a  leader,  glory  was  a  specific  something  in 
itself,  and  apart  from  any  considerations  of  duty.  Bayard 
had  infused  something  of  his  own  spirit  into  the  bosoms 
of  his  followers ;  and  a  single  word  from  him,  which  prom- 
ised adventure,  promised  achievement  and  triumph  also. 
By  dawn  his  little  force  was  ready,  some  thirty  in  number, 
the  good  knight  at  their  head,  and  on  the  road,  with  all 
possible  speed,  for  the  gamsons  of  the  enemy.  Fortune 
favored  their  desires.  They  had  not  covered  half  the  space 
between  Monervino  and  Andri  when  they  met  a  body  of 
Spaniards,  something  larger  than  their  own,  commanded 
by  a  gentleman  of  distinction,  one  Don  Alonzo  de  Soto- 
mayer,  a  near  relation  of  the  "Great  Captain"  himself. 
The  followers  of  Sotomayer  were  all  chosen  men.  He 
himself  ranked  as  a  man  of  skill  and  valor,  not  less  than  as 
a  gentleman  of  noble  blood.  It  was  with  mutual  if  not 
equal  satisfaction,  that  the  opposing  captains  discovered 
each  other  about  cannon-shot  distance,  and  on  the  descent 
of  opposite  hills. 

"And  now,"  said  the  "Good  Knight,"  closing  his  visoi 
and  putting  his  lance  in  rest,  "  let  each  man  take  care  of 


88 


ENCOUNTERS    THE  SPANIARDS. 


his  own  honor,  and  if  I  do  not  my  devoir  this  day  call  me 
ever  after  a  braggart  and  a  coward." 

He  was  answered  with  lively  cries  of  satisfaction. 
With  shouts  of  "  France  !  France  !"  as  the  war-cry  on  one 
side,  and  "Santiago"  on  the  other,  the  two  opposite  par- 
ties, without  farther  preliminaries,  darted  at  once  to  the 
embrace  of  battle.  The  first  reckless  shock  of  horse  and 
man  overthrew  several  of  the  combatants.  Both  sides 
were  borne  down  to  the  earth  by  the  irresistible  impulse, 
and  some  of  them  were  raised  with  difficulty  by  their  com- 
rades. The  fight  was  long  and  doubtful.  If  the  French 
were  temble  in  the  charge,  the  capacity  of  the  Spaniards 
for  endurance  was  equally  remarkable.  To  the  furious 
impulse  of  the  one  was  opposed  the  obstinate  firmness  of 
the  other.  For  nearly  an  hour  so  near  were  the  parties 
matched,  that  neither  might  exult  with  hope  or  droop  with 
apprehension.  It  was  left  for  the  indomitable  valor  and 
skill  of  our  young  knight  to  determine  the  struggle.  His 
unreckoning  will,  his  hearty  onset,  his  glorious  ciy,  re- 
newed the  impulse  of  his  first  onset;  and,  leading  the  way, 
the  French  broke  through  the  serried  ranks  of  the  enemy. 
Seven  of  the  Spaniards  lay  dead  upon  the  field,  as  many 
more  were  already  prisoners,  when  the  rest  took  flight — 
their  captain  at  the  rear  of  the  fugitives.  Bayard  led  the 
pursuit  close  at  his  heels,  and  ever  and  anon  he  taunted 
him  with  a  speech  somewhat  after  this  fashion  : 

"  Turn  thee,  cavalier,  if  thou  be'st  a  man.  Let  rae 
not  strike  thee  on  thy  back.  Great  will  be  thy  shame,  if 
thou  shalt  die  flying.  Better  a  thousand  deaths  than  a 
flight  so  disgraceful !" 

The  sting  was  felt  of  these  reproaches.  Besides,  the 
peril  was  imminent.  Don  Alonzo  de  Sotomayer  turned 
like  an  enraged  lion  upon  his  keen  assailant,  and  though 
abandoned  by  his  surviving  followers,  who  still  continued 
their  flight,  he  rushed  fiercely  a  second  time  into  the  bat- 
tle.    The  comrades  of  Bayard  passed  forward  in  pursuit. 


MAKES    CAPTIVE   THEIR    LEADER.  89 

No  one  thought  to  interfere  between  these  champions. 
The  French  men-at-arms  knew  their  leader  and  had  no 
fear  of  the  result,  though  the  Spanish  captain  fought 
with  gi-eat  skill  and  resolution.  But  the  strength  of  his 
steed  began  to  fail  him.  More  than  fifty  strokes  of  the 
sword  had  been  given  and  received  by  the  combatants. 
Enough  had  been  done  by  the  Spaniard  to  maintain  his 
honor.  Bayard  perceived  the  increasing  weakness  of  his 
ai-m  and  the  failing  vigor  of  his  steed. 

"  Yield  thee,  man-at-arms,  or  thou  diest." 

**  To  whom  shall  I  yield  me  V  demanded  the  Spanish 
knight. 

The  name  of  Bayard  concluded  the  combat.  Don 
Alonzo  dropped  the  point  of  his  weapon.  The  valiant 
deeds  of  our  young  hero, — his  reputation  for  generosity 
and  honor,  already  well  known  to  the  Spaniards, — recon- 
ciled his  enemy  to  the  submission  which  was  demanded. 
Bayard  had  reason  to  be  pleased  with  his  victory.  Not  a 
man  of  his  party  had  been  slain,  though  several  were 
wounded.  Some  of  their  horses  were  killed  in  the  melee  ; 
but  the  consolation  of  the  Frenchmen  was  found  in  the 
fact  that  they  had  prisoners  whose  ransom  would  amply 
repay  them  all  their  losses. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Captivity  in  the  hands  of  such  a  foe  as  Bayard,  whom 
the  "  Loyal  Servant"  describes  as  the  "  adopted  son  of 
Dame  Courtesy,"  but  whom  we  should  prefer  to  call  her 
natural  son,  implied  no  humiliations  and  tasked  no  great 
powers  of  endurance.  Our  young  knight  accorded  to  Don 
Alonzo  de  Sotomayer  one  of  the  handsomest  apartments 
in  his  household,  supplied  his  wardrobe,  and,  upon  the 
pledge  of  honor  of  the  captive  not  to  quit  the  castle,  gave 
him  the  entire  freedom  of  the  ganison,  putting  no  guard 
upon  his  footsteps.  He  took  his  pleasure  with  the  French- 
men as  if  he  had  been  one  of  them,  and  was  treated  on 
all  hands  with  a  kindness  and  consideration  which  might 
well  have  disarmed  his  situation  of  all  its  oppi-essive 
features.  After  a  brief  conference  on  the  subject  with  his 
captor,  Don  Alonzo  agreed  to  pay  a  thousand  crowns  for 
his  ransom.     This  was  rating  him  nobly,  as  belonging  to 


THE    CAPTIVE    VIOLATES    HIS    PAROLE.  91 

a  distinguished  house,  and  as  being  himself  a  very  distin- 
guished person.  It  does  not  appear,  however,  that  any 
body  considered  the  ransom  high. 

Our  Spaniard  did  not  appreciate  the  courtesy  of  his 
captor.  At  all  events  he  abused  it.  He  determined  to 
avail  himself  of  the  liberty  he  enjoyed,  to  realize  the  sense 
of  perfect  freedom.  Some  weeks  after  he  had  been  in 
the  castle,  passing  his  time,  as  it  was  thought,  very  pleas- 
antly and  in  good  spirits,  going  forth  and  returning  when 
it  suited  him,  and  suffering  neither  reproof  nor  restraint 
from  any,  he  determined  to  coniipt  one  of  the  gi'ooms  of 
the  gan'ison,  an  Albanian,  named  Theodrick.  He  said  to 
this  man — "  I  am  weary  of  this  captivity  and  of  hearing 
nothing  from  my  people.  Serve  me  in  making  my  escape, 
and  I  will  make  you  comfortable  for  life.  Get  me  a  horse 
in  readiness  that  I  may  escape.  I  am  under  no  watch  and 
can  readily  elude  suspicion.  You  can  join  me  in  flight, 
and  four  hours  will  put  us  both  in  safety  in  our  garrison. 
Do  this,  and  you  shall  have  fifty  ducats,  with  a  handsome 
yearly  salary." 

The  Albanian  swallowed  the  bait,  but  suggested  the 
danger  to  the  Spaniard  from  the  violation  of  his  pledge. 

"You  are  upon  honor  in  the  castle,  and  our  captain 
would  make  it  a  quarrel  with  you,  were  you  to  break  faith 
with  him." 

"  I  break  no  faith  with  him,"  answered  Don  Alonzo. 
"He  hath  agreed  upon  a  thousand  crowns  for  my  ran- 
som, and  he  shall  have  them.  I  am  bound  for  nothing 
farther." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Albanian,  "  the  horse  shall  be 
ready  at  the  castle  gate  at  break  of  day.  When  the  gate 
opens,  contrive  to  go  forth  as  in  pursuit  of  your  diversion, 
and  you  will  find  me  waiting." 

With  the  morning,  under  the  pretext  of  taking  the  air, 
Don  Alonzo  was  permitted  to  depart.  He  found  no 
difficulty  in   doing  so;  for,   apprised  that  he   was  on  his 


92  IS    PURSUED    AND    TAKEN. 

pledge  of  honor,  the  porter  no  longer  took  any  heed  of 
his  movements.  The  Albanian  and  the  horse  awaited  him 
in  the  place  appointed,  and  they  rode  away  together  to- 
ward the  garrison  of  Andri. 

Whether  Don  Alonzo  really  designed  to  defraud  his 
captor  of  the  stipulated  ransom,  or  was  simply  impatient 
of  the  delay  in  procuring  it,  must  be  left  wholly  to  con- 
jecture. It  was  doubly  unfortunate  that  he  was  not  suc- 
cessful in  his  treachery.  It  was  not  long  after  his  flight, 
when  Bayard  descended  into  the  lower  court  of  the  castle, 
and  missing  the  captive,  whom  he  was  wont  to  converse 
and  walk  with  every  morning,  he  naturally  asked  after 
him.  Something  excited  his  suspicions,  and  being  always 
vigilant,  he  pressed  his  inquiries  with  some  earnestness, 
and  learned  from  the  porter  that  the  Spanish  knight  had 
gone  through  the  gate  as  soon  as  it  was  opened.  Farther 
inquiiy  discovered  the  absence  of  Theodrick  and  his  horse, 
and  then  it  was  that  Bayard  conjectured  the  flight  of  his 
thousand  crowns.  Indignant  at  the  faithlessness  of  one 
whom  he  had  treated  with  so  much  confidence  and  cour- 
tesy, he  called  up  one  of  his  officers  named  Le  Basque, 
whom  he  despatched  with  ten  men  in  pursuit.  His  in- 
structions were  sufficiently  prompt.  "  Ride  full  speed 
towards  Andri,  and  bring  back  the  fugitive  alive  or  dead. 
Seize  the  Albanian  also  if  you  can.  He  shall  hang  on  our 
battlements  as  a  warning  to  other  traitors."  Le  Basque 
obeyed  instantly,  and  shaping  his  course  towards  Andri, 
he  overtook  the  Spaniard  within  two  miles  of  that  place. 
He  had  alighted  to  readjust  his  saddle-girths,  which  were 
broken,  but  had  not  succeeded  in  repairing  them,  when 
the  pui'suers  came  in  sight.  He  immediately  strove  to 
remount,  but  in  vain.  They  suiTounded  him  before  he 
could  divest  himself  of  the  useless  saddle.  The  Albanian 
had,  with  becoming  prudence,  separated  himself  from  the 
fugitive,  and  escaped  his  fate.  Don  Alonzo  was  without 
means   of  defence,   and   what   could    they   have    availed 


DB  SOTOMAYER  RANSOMED.  93 

against  a  dozen  men.  He  was  caught,  put  on  his  horse 
once  more,  and  brought  back  in  shame  to  Monervino. 

The  reproaches  of  Bayard  were  not  spared  as  he  beheld 
the  prisoner.  He  did  not  seek  to  conceal  his  scorn  and  in- 
dignation. 

"  How,  seiior,"  he  exclaimed,  "  call  you  this  the  action 
of  a  gentleman  1  Is  it  thus  you  esteem  your  word  ]  Did 
you  not  pledge  me  to  remain  within  the  castle  until  I  per- 
mitted your  departure  1     I  can  confide  in  you  no  longer." 

The  Spaniard  denied  that  he  intended  to  wrong  his 
captor  of  the  amount  of  the  ransom.  Within  two  days  it 
should  have  been  sent  him.  He  had  gone  for  that  pui-pose, 
and  because  of  the  great  trouble  which  he  felt  at  not  having 
heard  from  his  people. 

These  excuses  did  not  satisfy  our  knight,  whose  sense  of 
punctilio  was  outraged  by  a  violation  of  faith  so  discredita- 
ble to  every  claim  of  knighthood.  The  thousand  crowns 
were  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  voluntary  forfeiture 
of  honor  of  which  the  captive  had  been  guilty — his  indif- 
ference to  the  most  sacred  pledges,  and  his  abuse  of  hospi- 
tality and  courtesy.  The  Spaniard  enjoyed  no  longer  the 
privilege  of  the  household.  He  was  conducted  to  a  lonely 
tower,  where  he  was  kept  safely  but  with  good  accommo- 
dations. He  was  well  provided,  as  before,  with  food  and 
drink,  and  though  closely  watched,  was  neither  ironed  nor 
subjected  to  any  annoyance  beyond  the  constraint  and  con- 
finement which  his  own  wilfulness  had  rendered  necessary. 
At  the  end  of  fifteen  days  a  trumpeter  brought  his  ransom. 
In  his  own  presence.  Bayard  distributed  the  whole  amount 
among  his  comrades,  reserving  not  a  penny  for  himself. 
Don  Alonzo  took  leave  of  his  captors  with  due  civility, 
making  no  complaints  at  the  time,  and  as  it  was  supposed 
by  all,  having  no  right  to  make  any.  But  he  was  sore  at 
heart,  and  very  soon  gave  utterance  to  griefs  which  he  im- 
properly entertained,  and  to  which  he  too  readily  gave  a 
tongue.     His  reception  among  his  comrades  at  Andri  was 


94  SLANDERS    BAYARD. 

very  grateful  to  his  feelings.  His  relations  and  friends 
were  there,  and  his  rank  in  the  Spanish  army  was  such  that 
his  absence  had  been  seriously  felt.  Esteemed  for  his  rela- 
tionship to  the  "  Grreat  Captain,"  his  own  passion  for  anus, 
and  his  success  in  their  use,  had  led  to  large  expectations 
of  his  future  prowess.  But  these  very  expectations  had 
rendered  his  captivity  the  more  mortifying  to  his  pride. 
His  self-esteem  was  deeply  outraged  at  what  he  deemed 
the  humiliation  of  defeat.  The  attempts  of  his  friends  to 
give  him  consolation  only  opened  the  avenues  to  his  dis- 
quietude, and  he  allowed  himself  to  speak  of  his  captors  in 
a  manner  neither  just  to  them  nor  honorable  to  himself 
When  asked  by  those  about  him  as  to  the  person  of  Bayard, 
his  manner  of  life,  and  the  manner  of  his  ovsm  treatment, 
he  so  seasoned  the  falsehood  with  truth  as  to  substitute  for 
his  own  the  faults  of  others. 

"  With  regard  to  the  Lord  Bayard,"  he  would  say, 
"there  is  not  a  bolder  or  more  active  gentleman  in  the 
world.  He  is  constantly  busy.  When  not  engaged  in 
actual  warfare,  he  is  still  doing  something  in  his  gamson, 
by  which  to  improve  it  and  the  soldiers  who  keep  it.  His 
exercises  are  constant  in  wrestling,  leaping,  throwing  the 
bar,  and  other  sports,  such  as  are  becoming  to  the  exercise 
of  gentlemen.  In  liberality  he  hath  no  equal.  This  I 
know  from  a  thousand  instances.  The  money  which  he 
received  for  my  ransom  I  saw  him  distribute  among  his 
people,  keeping  not  a  ducat  for  himself.  In  short,  to  speak 
truly,  he  is  a  man  who,  if  he  but  live  long,  will  rise  to  very 
great  eminence.  As  for  his  treatment  of  myself,  concern- 
ing which  you  question  me,  I  fi'ankly  say  that  I  can  not 
exceedingly  commend  it.  Whether  by  his  orders  or  not, 
his  people  have  treated  me  with  rudeness,  and  not  as  if  I 
were  a  gentleman,  and  their  indignities  will  stick  with  me 
as  long  as  I  live." 

This  account  of  a  cavalier  who  was  already  proverbial 
for  his  humanity  and  courtesy,  sui'prised  such  of  the  hearers 


bayard's' INDIGNATION.  95 

of  Don  Alonzo  as  knew  Bayard's  reputation  for  these  qual- 
ities. Some  yielded  implicit  faith  to  the  statements  of  the 
Spaniard.  Others  censured  him,  and  others  again  ascribed 
the  mood  in  which  he  spoke  to  the  natural  dislike  which  all 
persons  are  apt  to  feel  for  their  gaoler.  But  the  subject 
was  a  chief  topic  of  conversation  at  the  time  in  the  town 
of  Andri,  and  the  discussion  finally  reached  the  ears  of  a 
French  officer  who  was  then  a  prisoner  in  the  place.  On 
the  retura  of  this  officer  to  Monei^ino  he  told  Bayard  that 
Don  Alonzo  complained  bitterly  of  the  ill-treatment  he  had 
received  at  his  hands,  and  dealt  freely  in  threats  of  a  sort 
not  to  be  raisundei-stood  among  gentlemen.  Bayard  was 
equally  vexed  and  astonished  at  this  statement,  and  imme- 
diately called  his  followers  around  him.  He  told  them  in 
what  sort  of  statements  his  late  captive  indulged,  and 
demanded  of  them  if  he  had  done  any  thing,  or  left 
any  thing  undone  in  the  treatment  of  his  prisoner  which 
rendered  it  necessary  that  he  should  offer  him  atone- 
ment. 

"  You  all,"  said  he,  "  know  this  histoiy.  In  my  opinion 
no  prisoner  could  have  been  better  treated  before  he  sought 
to  make  his  escape  ;  nor,  when  it  was  necessaiy  that  we 
should  more  closely  confine  him,  does  it  appear  to  me  that 
he  had  any  thing  to  complain  of  Tell  me  if  you  have 
discovered  any  thing  which  hath  not  come  to  my  knowl- 
edge, and,  on  my  honor,  if  he  hath  suffered  any  wrong  I 
vrill  make  him  honorable  amends." 

Their  reply  was  instant  and  unanimous.  With  one 
voice  they  answered  that  if  Don  Alonzo  had  been  the  first 
prince  of  the  blood  he  could  not  have  been  treated  with 
more  kindness  and  indulgence.  They  pronounced  it  a 
shame  and  an  outrage  that  he  should  utter  any  complaints. 
Their  reply  reassured  our  knight.  He  was  even  then  suf- 
fering from  an  attack  of  the  quartan  ague,  but  this  condi- 
tion did  not  chill  his  courage.  "  Faith,"  said  he,  "  I  will 
write  and  tell  him  that  if  he  asserts  that  he  hath  been  ill- 


96 


HE    DEMANDS    REDRESS. 


treated  by  me,  I  will  prove,  by  force  of  ai-ms,  that  he  hath 
greatly  en-ed  in  his  assertion." 

The  cartel  soon  followed  this  resolution.  It  ran  thus : 
"  Seiior  Don  Alonzo, — It  hath  reached  me  that,  since  your 
release  from  prison,  you  complain  of  me  among  your  peo- 
ple, and  allege  that  while  in  my  hands  you  were  not  treat- 
ed as  a  gentleman.  You,  senor,  very  well  know  the  con- 
trary;  but  seeing,  if  it  were  believed,  what  you  have 
said,  I  should  be  greatly  discredited,  I  have  thought  fit 
to  write  and  to  entreat  that  you  will  readjust  your  state- 
ments in  the  hearing  of  those  to  whom  they  were  origi- 
nally made.  It  is  only  right  that  you  should  confess  the 
good  and  honorable  treatment  which  you  have  had  at  my 
hands,  and  by  so  doing  you  will  equally  consult  your  honor 
and  redress  mine.  If  you  refuse  to  do  this,  know  that  I  am 
resolved  to  compel  you  to  this  justice  by  force  of  arms, 
your  person  in  mortal  conflict  against  mine,  on  foot  or  on 
horseback,  in  what  manner  shall  please  you  best.  And  so, 
farewell." 

The  answer  of  the  Spaniard  was  a  defiance.*  He  wrote  : 
"  Lord  of  Bayard, — I  have  read  your  letter  by  the  bearer, 
charging  that  I  had  let  fall  words  in  the  presence  of  my 
people  importing  that  you  did  not  treat  me  as  a  gentleman 
while  I  was  your  prisoner.  You  add  your  determination 
to  fight  with  me  unless  I  make  recantation.  I  declare  to 
you,  sir,  that  I  never  unsay  what  I  have  once  said,  and  you 
are  not  the  man  to  make  me  do  it.  In  regard  to  the  com- 
bat you  offer,  I  accept  it — to  meet  you  within  twelve  or 
fifteen  days  hence,  two  miles  from  the  town  of  Andri  or 
wherever  else  it  may  suit  yourself" 

The  answer  was  brought  back  by  La  LunCy  a  trumpeter 
of  the  Lord  de  la  Palisse,  by  whom  it  had  been  conveyed. 

*  Quintana  tells  us  that  Don  Alonzo  would  have  declined  the  meeting, 
but  that  he  was  compelled  to  it  by  his  relative,  the  Great  Captain,  who  told 
him  that  "  he  should  atone  for  what  he  had  said  by  the  glory  of  the  combat, 
or  else  suffer  the  chastisement  he  deserved  for  his  injurious  expressions." — 
El  Gran  Capitan. 


CHALLENGE    ACCEPTED.  97 

Its  tenor  was  so  grateful  to  our  hero  that,  sick  as  he  was, 
he  would  not  for  ten  thousand  crowns  have  had  it  more 
pacific.  He  immediately  despatched  his  tiiimpet,  with  his 
acceptance  of  the  combat,  together  with  the  period  and  place 
which  the  other  had  proposed.  The  terms  adopted  he  com- 
municated to  the  Lord  de  la  Palisse,  who  was  lieutenant  of 
the  Duke  de  Nemours,  entreating  permission  for  the  com- 
bat, which  was  granted  without  hesitation.  For  his  gui- 
don*  after  God,  he  took  his  old  friend  and  comrade,  Bel- 
labre, — the  same  under  whose  counsel  he  succeeded  in  as- 
sessing the  excellent  abbot,  his  uncle,  for  his  field  and  per- 
sonal equipments  in  his  first  p ass age-of- arms  with  Claude  de 
Vaudray.  Bellabre,  we  may  say  in  this  place,  had  subse- 
quently shown  himself  as  excellent  a  soldier  as  he  then 
proved  himself  a  politician. 

The  day  soon  came  for  the  combat.  The  Lord  de  la 
Palisse  was  the  keeper  of  the  field  on  the  part  of  our  cheva- 
lier. He  appeared  accordingly,  accompanied  by  two  hun- 
dred gens  d'armes,  in  compliance  with  the  particulars  of  the 
arrangement  already  made  by  the  seconds  of  the  parties. 
Bayard  was  conducted  by  him  to  the  place  of  meeting, 
mounted  on  a  handsome  courser,  and  clad  in  white  in  token 
of  humility — a  fact  which  will  help  somewhat  to  illusti'ate 
the  changes  of  social  custom  and  the  singular  caprices  of 
fashion.  His  enemy  had  not  yet  made  his  appearance. 
The  trumpeter.  La  Lune,  was  sent  forward  to  hasten  him. 
Of  La  Lune  he  asked  in  what  manner  the  Lord  of  Bayard 
had  taken  the  field  ]  When  told  on  horseback  and  as  a 
gend'arme,  *'  How  say  you  ?"  he  cried,  "  Go  to  him,  trum- 
peter, and  tell  him  that  I  prefer  to  fight  on  foot.  The  choice 
of  weapons  is  mine."  This  decision  was  iiTegular.  The 
terms  of  the  combat  had  been  already  arranged  by  the  sec- 
onds, and  they  were  to  fight  on  horseback.  The  right  now 
claimed  by  Don  Alonzo,  to  vary  the  conditions  of  the  field, 

*  Literally,  standard-bearer— but  probably  his  guide,  companion,  friend 
on  the  field— equivalent  to  the  second  of  our  times. 

I 


98  TERMS    OF    COMBAT. 

might  fairly  have  been  questioned.  His  claim  was  not  less 
ungenerous  than  unreasonable.  His  person  was  robust, 
tall,  and  muscular  j  that  of  Bayard,  though  of  good  height, 
was  slender  and  delicate,  displaying  much  less  strength 
than  agility.  Besides,  he  had  been  for  some  time  suffering 
from  the  quartan  ague,  the  chills  of  which  occuiTed  on  the 
very  day  chosen  for  the  combat.  He  was  under  their  in- 
fluence when  the  answer  of  Don  Alonzo  was  brought  to 
him  ;  but  neither  his  sufferings,  nor  the  seeming  inequalities 
upon  which  his  enemy  insisted,  could  subdue  his  courage  or 
lessen  his  ardor  for  the  fight.  Bayard  waived  all  his  rights 
rather  than  afford  any  pretext  by  which  his  enemy  could 
escape  the  issue.  "  In  a  good  cause,"  he  said,  "  I  can  do  bat- 
tle, whether  I  am  challenger  or  defendant.  Go  to  him.  La 
Lune,  and  say  to  him  that  this  shall  not  stand  in  the  way  of 
redressing  my  honor  ;  and,  with  God's  favor,  I  will  this  day 
fight  him  in  whatever  way  he  pleases." 

This,  in  the  feeble  condition  of  our  chevalier,  was  ac- 
cepting fearful  odds.  To  fight  on  foot  with  an  ague  upon 
him  seemed  to  his  friends  to  be  certainly  fatal  to  his  hopes. 
He  was  already  looked  upon  as  a  vanquished  man.  The 
Spaniard,  it  was  thought,  had  chosen  this  method  of  com- 
bat, knowing  equally  the  physical  debihty  of  our  knight  and 
his  superior  excellence  on  horseback.  Here,  indeed,  he 
was  not  believed  to  have  an  equal  in  all  Europe — certainly 
it  was  not  pretended  that  there  was  his  superior.  As  he 
alighted  from  his  horse  and  entered  the  lists,  his  friends 
could  scarcely  hide  their  anxieties.  His  feebleness  was  ap- 
parent in  his  step  and  countenance  ;  but  it  is  very  wonder- 
ful how,  under  the  ardent  impulse  of  a  great  soul,  the  fail- 
ing flesh  can  be  roused  into  power  and  strengthened  for 
endurance. 

The  readiness  of  Bayard  to  fight  on  any  terms  was  in 
no  respect  agreeable  to  our  Spaniard,  who,  though  brave  in 
the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  was  certainly  no  fire-eater ; 
and  the  prospect  of  an  encounter  a  Voutrance  with  one  so 


THE    FIELD.  99 

highly  renowned  as  his  opponent,  the  skill  and  weight  of 
whose  weapon  he  had  already  felt,  might  naturally  oppress 
him  with  doubts  of  the  issue,  whatever  might  be  the  advan- 
tages upon  his  side.  But  there  could  be  no  longer  any  eva- 
sion of  the  combat,  and  he  put  on  a  cheerful  countenance. 
He  was  attended  by  those  in  whose  presence  he  did  not 
dare  to  seem  afraid.  His  Mends  were  Don  Diego  Qui- 
noiies,  the  lieutenant  of  the  "Great  Captain;"  Don  Pe- 
dro Valdez,  the  Marquis  Licite,  Don  Francisco  de  Alta- 
mese,  and  many  other  brave  and  noble  gentlemen.  The 
escort  of  Bayard  was  similarly  distinguished.  He  had 
with  him  the  Lord  de  la  Palisse,  who  was  lieutenant  to  the 
Duke  de  Nemours  as  Diego  de  Quiiiones  was  to  Gon- 
salvo ;  the  lords  d'Orose,  Humbercourt,  and  Fontrailles, 
the  Baron  of  Beam,  and  others  of  like  chai'acter.  Bay- 
ard was  already  in  the  field,  having  been  placed  by 
Bellabre,  when  Don  Alonzo  sent  him  the  weapons  fi'ora 
which  to  choose.  These  were  the  long  rapier  and  the 
poniard.  He  was  not  long  in  choosing.  The  persons  of 
the  knights  were  protected  by  steel  cap  and  neck-piece. 
When  the  Spaniard  had  entered  the  lists  at  their  opposite 
extremity.  Bayard  threw  himself  on  his  knees  and  breathed 
a  prayer  to  God  ;  then,  stretching  himself  at  his  full  length, 
he  reverently  kissed  the  earth.  We  shall  comment  hereaf- 
ter upon  what  seems  to  us  a  strange  inconsistency  in  this  act 
of  pious  devotion,  at  the  veiy  moment  one  is  about  to  vio- 
late the  laws  of  that  Being  before  whom  he  kneels  in  hope 
and  supplication.  This  brief  prostration  over,  the  good 
knight  rose,  and,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  walked 
sti'aight  toward  his  enemy,  as  confidently  and  calmly  as  if 
he  were  within  the  limits  of  a  court  and  about  to  dance 
with  ladies — the  rapier  gTasped  in  his  right  and  the  pon- 
iai'd  in  his  left  hand.  Don  Alonzo  met  him  with  a  daunt- 
less aspect,  and  bearing  similar  weapons  in  like  manner. 
"  Sehor  de  Bai/ardo"  said  he,  as  our  knight  approached, 
"  que  me  quieres  .?" — "  what  would  you  have  of  me  1" 


100  THE    COMBAT. 

Bayard  replied  in  French,  "  Je  quiers  defendre  mon 
honneur,  dont  faussement  et  mauvaisement  m^as  accuse  /" 
And  thus  began  the  conflict. 

With  the  first  thrust  the  rapier  of  Bayard  gi-azed  the 
face  of  his  opponent,  but  without  mischief,  and  only  pro- 
voking the  courage  of  the  latter.  Beautiful  was  the  play 
that  succeeded.  Never  were  two  champions  more  equally 
matched.  The  Spaniard  put  forth  his  best  powers,  and 
they  were  deservedly  held  in  high  estimation.  How  brisk 
were  their  assaults,  how  prompt  the  recovery,  how  ad- 
mirable the  defence.  For  a  long  time,  though  there  were 
many  lunges,  there  were  no  hits.  The  efforts  of  Don 
Alonzo  were  chiefly  directed  to  stunning  his  adversary, 
by  striking  him  on  the  head — an  aim  in  which,  had  he  been 
successful,  he  must  have  gained  the  victory,  as,  in  the 
debilitated  condition  of  Bayard,  such  injuries  must  have 
soon  left  him  Jwrs  de  combat.  But  our  knight  supplied  by 
art  and  agihty  what  he  lacked  in  strength ;  and,  baffled  in 
his  aim,  Don  Alonzo  became  excited,  and  his  caution  be- 
came diminished  in  proportion  as  his  choler  was  awakened. 
A  slight  wound  which  Bayard  gave  him  in  the  eye  made 
him  furious,  and,  raising  his  arm  to  revenge  himself  for 
the  hurt,  by  a  furious  thrust,  he  gave  an  opportunity  to  his 
opponent  which  the  latter  did  not  suffer  to  escape  him. 
Practising  a  ruse,  for  which  the  Spaniard  was  not  pre- 
pared, he  raised  his  weapon  at  the  same  moment  with  the 
other,  but  held  it  aloft,  as  if  threatening  the  face  of  his 
enemy,  without  doing  any  thing  more.  Then,  as  the 
thrust  of  his  adversary  was  put  by,  he  sprang  forward 
with  wondrous  dexterity,  while  Don  Alonzo  stood  un- 
moved, and  drove  his  dagger  to  the  hilt,  through  the  gor- 
get, and  into  the  neck  of  the  latter.  The  steel  penetrating 
four  inches,  became  fastened,  so  that  Bayard  failed  to 
draw  it  forth,  and  while  the  blood  gushed  forth  upon  him 
in  a  turbid  torrent,  the  fatally-stricken  Spaniard,  dropping 
his  rapier,  gi'asped  him  involuntarily  around  the  body,  and 


BAYARD    SLAY^    DE    SOTOMAYER.  101 

they  both  fell  to  the  ground  together.  This  circumstance 
shows  the  feebleness  of  Bayard  at  the  time  of  the  combat. 
It  was  the  death-spasm  of  Don  Alonzo,  from  whose  em- 
brace our  chevalier  extricated  himself  in  a  moment,  and 
rising  to  his  feet,  clapped  his  dagger  to  his  nostrils,  ciying, 
— "  Yield,  Don  Alonzo,  or  you  die."  But  the  victim  was 
no  longer  sensible  to  such  a  threat.  His  second,  Don 
Diego  de  Quinones,  intei-posed,  saying,  "  Senor  Bayardo^ 
ja  es  muerto,  vencido  aveisT — *'  He  is  akeady  dead.  You 
have  conquered  !" 

"Yet,"  said  Bayard,  with  unaffected  son'ow, — "I  could 
have  wished  it  had  fallen  out  otherwise.  Senor,  have  I 
done  enough." 

"  Troppo,  Senor  Bayardo,  por  Vonor  d^Espana.^^ — "  Too 
much.  Lord  of  Bayard,  for  the  honor  of  Spain."  Bayard 
again  knelt  and  returned  thanks  to  God  for  the  favor  shown 
him,  again  kissed  the  earth  with  reverence,  and,  having 
risen,  presented  the  body  of  the  Spaniard  to  his  friends, 
for  it  was  the  prize,  in  those  days,  of  the  victor.  The 
behavior  of  Bayard  on  the  field,  won  the  applauses  even 
of  his  foes.  All  parties  admitted  that  his  enemy  deserv-ed 
his  fate,  and  that  good  knight  never  before  administered 
punishment  so  courteously  and  with  a  grace  so  exquisite. 
To  do  our  chevalier  justice,  he  did  not  aim  at  the  life  of 
the  Spaniard.  He  had  probably  undeiTated  the  force  of 
his  arm  when  he  gave  the  fatal  blow.  The  "Loyal  Ser- 
vant" assures  us  that  he  was  right  sorry  that  the  thing  was 
done,  and  that  he  would  rather  have  given  an  hundred 
thousand  crowTis  to  have  conquered  his  man  alive.  His 
regi'ets  offered  no  consolation  to  the  Spanish  gentlemen. 
They  had  lost  their  sympathies  for  de  Sotomayer,  for  he 
was  a  dishonored  man.  But  the  pride  of  the  nation  was 
outraged,  and  when  does  the  Spaniard  forget  his  pride  % 
The  event  stung  them  into  a  desire  for  revenge, — the  re- 
sult of  which  we  shall  see  hereafter.  Meanwhile,  Bayard 
was  conducted  back  to  Monervino  by  his  comrades  in  a 


102  HIS    GRATITUDE    TO    GOD. 

sort  of  triumph,  to  the  sound  of  hautboys  and  other  instru- 
ments. His  first  act  after  reaching  his  garrison  was  one 
of  devotion.  Hunying  to  the  House  of  God,  he  again 
rendered  thanks  for  the  favor  which  had  been  shown 
him;  and,  this  duty  performed,  he  gave  a  magnificent 
feast  to  his  friends  and  comrades.  Certainly,  seen  through 
the  medium  of  our  more  prosaic  era,  this  institution  of 
chivalry  was  a  thing  of  marvellous  caprice  and  incon- 
sistency. 


CHAPTER  X. 

It  may  be  thought  something  strange,  in  Christian  wri- 
ters, to  insist  upon  the  piety  of  one  professing  Christianity, 
who  yet  engages  in  single  combat.  We  have  seen  Bayard 
on  his  knees,  making  confession  of  sins,  partaking  of  the 
sacrament,  and  entreating  the  favor  of  the  Deity,  just  before 
entering  upon  more  than  one  fatal  duel.  Were  we  super- 
ficially to  examine  this  conduct  by  the  recognized  moral 
standards  of  our  day,  we  should  conclude  that  one  who 
should  practise  after  this  fashion  was  either  a  hypocrite  or 
a  fool.  But  we  must  fall  into  no  such  error.  In  the  time 
of  Bayard  duels  were  frequent,  and  were  under  the  sanc- 
tion equally  of  the  church  and  the  laws.  They  received 
these  sanctions  with  the  most  ostentatious  solemnities. 
They  were  regarded  in  some  sort  as  the  only  modes  for 
arriving  at  the  truth  in  matters  where  human  evidence  was 
wanting,  and  the  divine  justice  was  supposed  to  determine 
in  a  case  where  the  decision  of  man  might  most  probably 
result  in  injustice.  Nor  did  pious  men  lack  sufficient 
examples  in  sacred  history.  They  could  refer  to  the  great 
duel  between  David  and  Goliath,  to  the  terrible  passage  of 
arms  at  Helkath-Hazzurun,  of  twelve  against  twelve,  the 
followers  of  David  against  those  of  Ish-bosheth,  under  the 
challenge  of  Abner  to  Joab ;  and  many  other  cases.  Be- 
sides, to  the  Christian  the  arguments  which  lie  against  sin- 
gle combat,  lie  also,  with  equal  cogency  against  any  mode 
of  human  warfare — against  that  of  nations  quite  as  much 
as  that  of  individuals.  Religion,  which  invited  whole  na- 
tions to  go  forth  in  the  Crusades,  for  the  destruction  of 
other  nations,  under  a  divine  pretext,  could  urge  no  objec- 


104  THE  LAWS  OF  THE  DUELLO. 

tions  to  the  duel,  unless  as  a  mere  matter  of  social  and 
domestic  policy.  It  was  inexpedient  that  our  sons,  whom 
we  need  to  war  upon  the  heathen,  should  be  suffered  to 
war  upon  each  other.  Civil  regulations,  accordingly,  inter- 
posed at  an  early  day,  under  the  dawning  light  of  civiliza- 
tion, in  checking  the  frequency  of  single  combat.  In  af- 
fairs which  gi'ew  out  of  the  point  of  honor,  the  permission 
of  the  king,  during  the  time  of  Bayard,  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  be  obtained  ;  and  this  was  rigorously  with- 
held where  the  occasion  of  the  quaiTel  was  one  of  a  frivo- 
lous nature,  not  affecting  the  good  name  and  honor  of  the 
parties.  When  leave  was  granted  by  the  monarch,  he,  or 
one  who  was  recognized  as  his  representative,  was  required 
to  be  present,  having  the  right  to  arrest  the  combat  at 
whatever  stage  of  it  he  thought  proper,  nor  did  either  of  the 
parties  dare  to  censure  this  interposition.  It  was  in  this 
way  that  the  raonarchs  sought  to  arrest  and  prevent  the 
abuses  of  a  system  which  they  yet  recognized  as  necessary 
to  the  institutions  of  war,  and  sometimes  essential  to  the 
higher  purposes  of  justice.  Bayard,  in  giving  his  counte- 
nance to  the  practice  of  duelling,*  not  only  acquiesced  in 
the  ordinary  usage  of  his  times,  but  in  one  which  found  its 
sanctions  equally  in  the  civil  and  religious  authorities  of 
Christendom.  We  need  not,  therefore,  defend  his  supposed 
aben-ations  from  piety  in  this  particular,  when  we  find  his 
lessons  taught  him  by  his  spiritual  father.  But,  in  comply- 
ing with  a  practice,  the  propriety  of  which  he  had  never 
been  taught  to  question,  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
he  would  have  ever  dreamed  of  going  out  to  the  field  on 
frivolous  or  small  provocation.  Nor  would  he  ever  have 
persisted  in  error,  when  his  frank  admission  of  his  fault  was 
all  that  was  necessary  for  atonement.     We  find  him,  for 

*  Bayard  is  frequently  quoted,  by  those  who  argue  against  duelling,  as 
one  who  had  steadily  opposed  the  practice.  We  have  shown  that  such  is 
not  the  case.  They  must  look  for  their  examples  elsewhere,  but  nee'd  not 
be  at  any  loss,  since  the  biographies  of  valiant  men  are  full  of  them 


THE    SPANIARDS    DISSATISFIED.  105 

example,  in  this  very  duel  with  Sotomayer,  just  recited, 
calling  upon  his  companions  to  say  whether  he  had  been 
guilty  of  misconduct  in  his  treatment  of  his  captive,  declar- 
ing his  perfect  readiness  to  confess  his  wrong,  should  they 
advise  him  that  he  had  been  really  erring.  Regarding  the 
modes  of  fighting  prior  to  the  use  of  gunpowder,  we  must 
perceive  that  every  battle  was  but  a  series  of  personal 
combats.  Hence  the  wondrous  difference  in  the  loss  of  life 
in  modem  battles  in  comparison  with  those  of  ancient 
times,  where  each  soldier  took  his  foeman  by  the  throat, 
and  where  one  or  other  must  submit  to  captivity  or  to  be 
slain.  Habits,  engendered  by  such  conflicts,  must  neces- 
sarily have  produced  the  duello.  Every  passion  of  the 
heart  was  inflamed  when  each  warrior  grappled  with  an 
individual  enemy,  and  where  the  encounter  was  foot  to 
foot.  The  space  which  separates  the  opposing  forces  in 
battles  of  modem  times,  while  the  cannon  and  the  musket 
do  their  work,  tend  greatly  to  lessen  the  bloody  results  of 
every  pitched  battle ;  and  the  duel  seems  to  have  gi'adual- 
ly  declined  in  popularity  in  proportion  to  the  improvement 
of  the  implements  for  destructive  warfare.  Weapons  which 
render  skill  unavailing,  and  which  tend  to  equalize  the 
chances  of  the  combatants^  contribute  greatly  to  the  objects 
of  the  peace-maker. 

The  Spaniards,  as  we  have  said,  were  very  far  from 
being  satisfied  that  the  French  champion  should  triumph, 
under  circumstances  so  unfavorable,  over  one  of  their  most 
distinguished  waniors ;  and  they  strove,  accordingly,  in 
some  way  to  recover  their  renown  and  quiet  their  outraged 
self-esteem ;  but  a  truce  which  took  place  about  this  time 
between  the  two  armies,  by  preventing  the  possibility  of  a 
general  action,  or  of  any  affairs  of  small  parties,  seemed 
unfavorable  to  the  gratification  of  their  wishes.  This  in- 
terruption to  the  usual  game  of  war  lefl;  no  safety-valves 
for  the  surplus  passion  which  the  late  combat  had  stimu- 
lated into  eagerness   and  warmth,  and   greatly  increased 


106 


DIEGO   DE    BISAIGNE. 


the  restiveness  of  their  champions  under  a  discredit  which 
they  improperly  assumed  to  have  disparaged  the  renown  of 
their  whole  nation.  Having  many  distinguished  combat- 
ants among  their  men-at-arms,  they  availed  themselves  of 
the  armistice  to  pursue  their  sports,  and  spend  their  leisure 
in  and  about  the  hamlets  and  towns  which  the  French  were 
known  to  visit.  On  such  occasions  they  tried  various  modes 
of  provocation,  such  as  may  be  permitted  to  rivals,  who, 
eager  for  the  adjustment  of  their  claims,  are  yet  compelled 
to  keep  up  certain  conditions  of  forbearance  and  courtesy. 
With  the  mood  to  quari'el,  their  disputes  were  frequent 
with  the  French,  though  without  realizing  the  results  at 
which  they  seemed  to  aim.  The  French  were  not  quarrel- 
some— were  satisfied  with  themselves,  their  champions, 
and  with  all  the  world ;  and  the  Spaniards,  for  some  days, 
had  to  curb  the  impatience  which  they  found  no  legitimate 
mode  at  that  time  to  pacify.  It  so  happened,  however, 
that  one  of  these  little  parties  of  adventure-seeking  Span- 
iards rode  forth  directly  toward  the  town  of  Monervino, 
where  Bayard  kept  garrison.  They  were  eleven  or  thir- 
teen in  number,  and  among  them  were  some  of  the  very 
bravest  and  hardiest  of  the  Spanish  cavaliers.  They  had 
got  within  half  a  league  of  Monei-vino,  when  they  encoun- 
tered our  good  knight  riding  forth  in  company  with  his 
friend,  the  Lord  d'Orose.  Our  cavaliers  saluted  the  Span- 
iards with  courtesy,  and  the  two  parties  instantly  fell  into 
conversation.  By  gradual  transitions,  the  restless  Span- 
iards soon  began  to  exhibit  the  feeling  of  impatience  and 
discontent  under  which  they  suffered.  At  length  a  bold  fel- 
low, one  Diego  de  Bisaigne,  an  officer  in  the  company  of  the 
late  Don  Alonzo  de  Sotomayer,  and  the  last  person  either 
to  forget  or  to  forgive  his  death,  introduced  the  subject  of 
his  wishes  in  the  following  manner  : 

"  I  know  not,  gentlemen  of  France,  whether  this  truce, 
now  a  week  old,  pleases  you  or  no  ;  but  to  us  it  is  terribly 
annoying,  and  we  should  like  to  relieve  its  tedium  in  any 


TERMS    OF    COMBAT.  107 

pleasant  manner.  Now  if,  while  it  lasts,  a  band  of  you, 
ten  or  twenty,  more  or  less,  are  willing  to  fight  upon  our 
sovereign's  quan'el,  I  will  undertake  that  you  shall  not 
want  a  like  number  to  engage  you  on  our  side ;  the  beaten 
party  to  remain  prisoners  of  the  other." 

Bayard  was  one  of  the  very  last  persons  in  the  world  to 
suggest  any  obstacles  to  so  pleasant  an  arrangement. 

"  The  gentleman  speaks  very  discreetly,"  said  the  Lord 
d'Orose;  and  Bayard  concuiTed  with  him  in  the  compli- 
ment. 

"Be  it  as  you  wish,"  he  replied  promptly  to  the  Span- 
ish knight  who  had  addressed  him.  "  My  companion  and 
myself  understand  you,  and  agi'ee  with  you  perfectly. 
You  are  here  some  thirteen  cavaliers.  We  will  meet  you 
eight  days  hence  with  an  equal  number,  armed  and  mount- 
ed, and  he  then  who  hath  a  brave  heart  let  him  show  it." 

The  Spaniards  agi-eed  to  the  arrangement,  and  the  par- 
ties separated  for  the  time,  after  having  made  all  their 
aiTangements  for  the  place  and  circumstances  of  the  com- 
bat 

The  combatants  assembled  at  the  appointed  time  and 
place  according  to  agreement.  Crowds,  of  all  nations, 
came  also  as  spectators.  The  ground  was  carefully  meas- 
ured off,  and  bounded.  It  was  stipulated  that  he  who 
passed  beyond  the  boundaries  was  to  remain  a  prisoner, 
and  not  engage  in  the  fight  again  that  day.  It  was  also 
arranged  that  he  who  should  be  unhorsed  in  the  combat 
was  to  continue  it  no  longer.  This  was  an  unhappy  eiTor 
on  the  part  of  the  French,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter.  The 
fight  was  to  continue  till  nightfall,  and  no  longer;  and 
neither  party  was  to  be  held  the  conqueror  as  long  as  one 
of  its  champions  could  maintain  himself  in  his  saddle.  In 
such  case,  he  was  to  leave  the  field  in  equal  honor  at  least 
with  his  antagonists,  cairying  off  his  comrades  without 
ransom.  It  was  fortunate  for  the  French  that  this  was  a 
feature  in  the  stipulations.     Bayard  was  the  first  to  make 


108  BAYARD    IN    THE    LISTS. 

his  appearance  in  the  field.  We  take  a  description  of  his 
entree  on  this  occasion  from  the  pen  of  one  of  the  Italian 
novelists  of  modem  times.  It  answers  to  the  truth  of  his- 
tory, so  far  as  it  is  known ;  though  our  author,  who  is  very- 
partial  to  his  own  countrymen,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
who,  in  the  description  of  this  combat,  confounds  two  very 
distinct  and  dissimilar  events,  is  by  no  means  an  authority, 
except  as  to  matters  of  description  and  the  social  costume 
of  the  times. 

"  Bayard,  the  warrior  and  glory  of  knighthood,  was  the 
first  to  enter  the  lists.  He  rode  a  beautiful  bay  of  Nor- 
mandy, with  a  mane  of  sable,  and  three  silver-spotted  feet. 
According  to  the  customs  of  chivalry,  the  fine  proportions 
of  this  charger  were  concealed  by  an  ample  saddle-cloth, 
which  completely  covered  his  body.  This  was  of  a  bright 
green,  striped  with  crimson,  and  terminating  in  a  rich  fringe, 
which  descended  to  his  knees.  The  arms  of  the  knight 
were  embroidered  on  this  garment,  where  it  covered  the 
broad  shoulder  and  flank  of  the  charger.  There  was 
nothing  remarkable  in  the  personal  appearance  of  Bayard 
himself;  and,  without  venturing  to  judge  of  what  the  aiinor 
might  conceal,  he  did  not  seem  to  promise  the  ordinary 
degree  of  vigor  of  the  wamors  of  the  time.  His  steed, 
curbed  as  he  rode  within  the  lists,  and  nettled  by  the  spur 
at  the  same  moment,  bore  impatiently  upon  the  rein,  pran- 
cing forward  with  arching  neck,  and  proudly  curvetting  from 
side  to  side  under  the  restraint,  while  his  flowing  tail  swept 

the  gi'ound  about  his  course Bayard,  who  till  this 

moment  had  kept  his  visor  closed,  now  exhibited  a  face  so 
very  pale,  that  all  the  spectators  were  surprised  to  see  him 
take  the  field.  When  it  was  shut  by  his  esquire,  he  said 
that,  though  a  suflerer  for  four  months  from  ague,  he 
believed  that  he  should  that  day  bring  no  dishonor  upon  the 
arms  of  France."*     The  rest  of  our  author's  description  is 

*  The  challenge  of  Barletta,  by  Massimo  d'Azeglio,  an  Italian  imitator 
of  the  school  of  Scott.    For  a  translation  of  this  interesting  novel,  by  Mr. 


BASENESS    OP    THE    SPANIARDS.  109 

purely  fanciful.  The  scene  which  he  describes  never  took 
place ;  but  we  must  not  forget  the  rights  of  the  novelist ; 
and,  in  stating  the  fact,  and  denying  his,  we  do  not  propose 
to  censure  him,  or  dispute  his  privileges. 

To  return  to  our  combatants.  The  preHminaries  being 
all  completed,  and  the  parties  ranged  in  opposition,  the 
signal  was  given  for  the  combat.  The  lances  were  couched  ; 
the  spurs  given  to  the  chargers;  and  the  knights  rushed 
into  the  thick  melee  with  wonderful  courage  and  impetu- 
osity. But  it  was  soon  found  that  the  clause  in  the  terms 
of  the  combat  which  rendered  the  knight  hors  de  combat 
who  happened  to  be  unhorsed,  had  led  to  the  practice  of  an 
unexpected  baseness  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniards,  who 
now  addressed  themselves  to  the  dishonorable  toil  of  slay- 
mg  horses,  rather  than  men.  It  was  not  a  combat  man  to 
man,  but  man  against  beast — and  this  seemingly  by  a  plan 
previously  concerted  among  themselves,  for  they  were  all 
governed  by  a  like  desire.  Eleven  of  the  horses  of  the 
French  were  killed;  and  their  riders — without  suffering 
hurt — without  incuiTing  the  slightest  discredit  for  want  of 
skill,  either  in  arms  or  horsemanship — were  thus,  at  an 
early  period  in  the  day,  excluded  from  farther  participation 
in  the  stiife.  Bayard  and  the  Lord  d'Orose  alone  main- 
tained their  saddles ;  and  so  skilfully  and  gallantly  did  they 
maintain  them,  that  the  treacherous  Spaniards  took  nothing 
by  their  baseness.  It  was  in  vain  that  they  concentrated 
their  whole  efforts,  and  made  combined  assaults  upon  these 
two  champions.  These,  retiring  behind  the  slain  horses 
whenever  assailed  by  the  whole  force  of  the  enemy,  found 
in  them  an  excellent  bulwark,  from  which  they  darted, 
whenever  occasion  offered,  upon  single  foes,  and  succeeded 
in  keeping  the  field,  in  defiance  of  the  numbers  against 
them:  and  thus  the  day  was  consumed  until  the  shades  of 
night  closed  the  combat.     Individuals  could  do   them  no 

Lester,  see  the  "  Medici  Series  of  Italian  Prose,"  from  the  American  press 
of  Paine  &  Burgess. 

K 


110  ANOTHER    PASSAGE. 

hurt ;  and,  when  charged  by  too  gi'eat  numbers,  they  shelter- 
ed themselves  behind  the  horses  of  their  comrades,  and  no  ap- 
plication of  the  spur,  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniards,  could  per- 
suade their  less  gallant  steeds  to  take  the  leap  also.  The 
honor  of  the  day  was  accorded  to  the  French ;  since,  with 
but  two  knights  against  thirteen,  they  could  not  be  over- 
come in  a  conflict  which  lasted  four  hours.  The  parties 
separated  with  the  night,  the  Spaniards  leaving  the  field 
with  increased  admiration  of  the  exquisite  prowess  of  our 
knight,  and  his  wonderful  skill  and  spirit. 

This  event  was  followed  by  others  of  a  similar  kind,  with 
one  of  which  it  has  more  than  once  been  confounded.* 
This  was  an  affair  which  occasioned  considerable  excite- 
ment, and  was  productive  of  much  exultation  on  the  side 
of  the  Spaniards,  and  their  allies,  the  Italians.  It  appears 
that,  pending  some  negotiations  between  the  two  armies, 
a  French  officer,  Charles  de  Torgues,  visited  the  town  of 
Barletta  to  effect  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  Here,  at  a 
convivial  meeting,  a  dispute  arose  respecting  the  compara- 
tive merits  of  the  French  and  Italian  knights.  In  the  course 
of  the  discussion,  de  Torgues  was  incautious  enough  to  say 
that  the  Italians  were  an  effeminate  and  timid  people,  and 
no  match  for  the  chivalry  of  France.  This  roused  some 
of  the  company,  one  of  whom  replied  that  he  had  under 
his  own  command  a  troop  of  Italians  who  w^re  fully  equal 
to  the  same  number  of  Frenchmen.  The  dispute  ended  in  a 
challenge,  thirteen  against  thirteen,  the  victors  being  enti- 
tled to  the  arms  and  horses  of  the  vanquished,  and  one  hun- 
dred gold  crowns  each.  The  fight  took  place  on  the  13th 
Febi-uary,  1503,  in  a  plain  between  the  towns  of  Andri  and 

*  As  in  the  instance  of  the  romance  by  Massimo  d'Azeglio,  already  quoted, 
historians  have  also  fallen  into  the  same  error.  It  is  one  easily  made,  since 
the  events  happened  about  the  same  time,  and  the  combatants,  of  like  num- 
ber on  each  side,  were  drawn  from  the  same  opposing  nations.  Some  dis- 
pute has  arisen  with  regard  to  the  number  of  champions  in  the  previous 
combat,  but  the  difference  between  eleven  and  thirteen  of  a  side  is  nowise 
important. 


A    NEW    ADVENTURE.  Ill 

Coirato.  The  Frenchmen  were  defeated,  and  the  triumph 
of  the  Italians  and  Spaniards  was  duly  increased  by  the  ex- 
ceeding novelty  of  their  good  fortune  in  the  tourney,  for 
the  "  Great  Captain"  thought  that  the  French  cavalry  were 
the  best  soldiers  in  the  world.  But  Bayard  was  not  pres- 
ent on  this  occasion,  neither  as  a  combatant,  as  some  of  the 
accounts  report,  nor  as  one  of  the  judges  of  the  field,  as  as- 
serted by  other  authorities.  The  author  of  the  challenge 
of  B arietta  lugs  him  in  by  the  head  and  shoulders,  in  his  nar- 
rative, simply  that  the  honor  gained  by  his  countrymen  on 
this  occasion  should  derive  additional  lustre  from  classing 
among  the  beaten  party  the  mirror  of  modem  chivalry.  A 
like  error  prevails  in  the  account  of  the  affair  by  the  Spanish 
biogi'apher,  Quintana,  who  has  strangely  wrought  up  in 
one  naiTative  the  several  details  of  the  two  combats.  We 
are,  fortunately,  in  possession  of  the  names  of  the  several 
knights,  on  both  sides,  who  were  engaged  in  this  last  pass- 
age. That  of  Bayard  is  not  among  them.  He  was  not 
present  at  the  fight.  He  was  probably  still  a  victim  to  the 
ague  under  which  he  had  suffered  more  or  less  severely  for 
several  months.  The  termination  of  the  truce  found  him 
better,  or,  at  all  events,  willing  to  think  himself  so,  since  we 
find  him  engaged  in  a  little  expedition  requiring  some  ac- 
tivity, and  in  which  he  gave  an  admirable  illustration  of 
one  of  his  most  noble  virtues. 

It  appears  one  day  that  our  good  knight  received  a  hint 
fi-om  his  spies,  that  there  was  a  certain  treasurer  of  Naples 
who  was  upon  the  road  for  Barletta  vdth  money-bags  of 
ample  size,  which  he  was  conveying  for  the  use  of  Gon- 
salvo  de  Cordova.  The  pleasant,  not  to  say  humane  and 
charitable  idea,  suggested  itself  to  our  knight  that  he  would 
relieve  his  enemy  of  this  burden  ;  and  the  "  Loyal  Servant" 
tells  us  that  from  this  moment  he  never  laid  himself  down 
to  sleep  without  setting  a  strict  watch  upon  the  route  which 
the  treasurer  was  compelled  to  pursue.  He  soon  received 
tidings  which  were  decisive  of  his  approach.      But  a  day 


112  RELIEVES    THE    TREASURER. 

was  left  for  the  operation  as  he  was  now  but  fifteen  miles 
from  Monervino,  and  attended  by  a  small  body  of  cavalry. 
Bayard  had  somehow  set  his  heart  upon  this  charitable  per- 
formance. He  had  another  reason,  scarcely  less  potent 
than  that  of  relieving  the  treasurer  of  his  cares,  the  desire 
of  rewarding  the  good  service  of  his  soldiers.  The  motives 
were  each  sufficiently  noble  to  keep  him  sleepless.  With- 
out waiting  for  his  breakfast,  he  rose  before  day,  and, 
putting  himself  in  ambush  between  two  snug  and  pleasant 
little  hills,  he  despatched  his  companion  Tardieu,  with  five- 
and-twenty  soldiers  more,  upon  another  route,  so  that  if 
the  good  treasurer  should  be  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  find 
the  desired  relief  at  his  hands,  he  might  afford  an  oppor- 
tunity to  his  lieutenant  to  do  him  the  needful  service.  Tar- 
dieu obeyed  orders,  watched  patiently  and  well,  but  took 
no  prey.  Bayard  was  more  fortunate.  Crouched  in  a 
narrow  gorge  which  enabled  him  thoroughly  to  hide  his 
men,  he  suffered  the  treasurer  to  pass  him  by  without  in- 
teri'uption.  When  they  had  fairly  got  beyond  him,  how- 
ever, and  retreat  was  impossible,  our  good  knight  darted 
out  of  cover  with  his  war-cry — "  France  !  France  !  kill ! 
kill!" 

Suiprised  by  the  suddenness  of  the  assault,  disordered 
by  the  charge,  and  supposing  that  ten  times  its  number 
was  upon  them,  the  Spanish  escort  offered  but  a  feeble 
defence,  and  fled  toward  Barletta.  Bayard  did  not  pursue 
the  fugitives  very  far.  His  great  anxiety  was  the  relief  of 
the  poor  man  who  bore  the  money.  Him  he  approached 
with  affectionate  interest,  and  took  him,  and  his  man,  and 
his  bags,  all  at  once,  under  his  special  protection.  These 
he  conducted  in  safety  to  Monervino,  The  treasurer  and 
the  money-bags  were  both  conducted  to  our  knight's  apart- 
ments, where  the  gold  was  tumbled  forth  upon  a  table, 
making  a  pile  which  delighted  the  eyes  of  our  French- 
men. 

An  attempt  being  made  to  count  the  spoils,  the  ti*easurer 


TARDIEU'S    VEXATION.  113 

prevented  it,  by  saying  that  they  might  save  themselves 
the  trouble,  the  amount  being  just  fifteen  thousand  ducats. 
Fifteen  thousand  ducats  was  no  trifling  sum  in  that  day, 
and  in  the  sight  of  a  greedy  and  expensive  young  soldiery. 
While  it  lay  ostentatiously  heaped  upon  the  table,  Tardieu 
made  his  appearance,  his  eyes  gloating  over  the  treasure 
spread  before  him,  and  his  mind  vexed  and  imtated  at 
the  ill  fortune  which  had  kept  him  from  the  prize.  How- 
ever, putting  on  his  most  amiable  visage,  he  said  to  our 
knight — 

"  Comrade,  I  go  shares  with  you.  I  was  of  the  under' 
taking,  you  know  ]" 

"Very  true,"  rejoined  Bayard,  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
"but  you  were  not  of  the  taking,  comrade  !" 

Something  more  was  said,  and  the  good  knight,  in  order 
to  subdue  the  tone  of  the  lieutenant,  reminded  him  coolly 
that  he  was  under  his  command,  not  his  equal,  and  could  claim 
nothing  that  he,  Bayard,  was  not  willing  to  give.  An  angry 
man  was  Tardieu  that  day,  and  he  swore  a  bitter  oath  that 
he  would  have  justice.  He  made  his  complaint  accordingly 
to  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  who,  on  inquiring  of  Bayard  the 
particulars,  and  taking  the  opinions  of  his  officers  as  to  the 
usage  in  such  cases,  confirmed  our  hero  in  his  right  to  all 
the  money.  Tardieu  got  neither  sympathy  nor  satisfaction. 
Tardieu,  we  must  not  forget,  was  the  same  person  who  led 
the  escort  which  welcomed  Bayard  at  his  first  going  into 
gan-ison  at  the  town  of  Aire,  and  who  had  prompted  the 
tournament  which  the  latter  had  given  at  that  place.  He 
was  a  lively  and  pleasant  fellow,  though  he  could  be  angry, 
and  swore  famously  when  the  fit  was  on  him,  like  any  other 
trooper.  When  he  heard  the  decision  of  the  Duke  de  Ne- 
mours, he  cried  out — 

"  By  the  blood  of  St.  George,  I  am  vastly  unlucky. 
Nevertheless,  comrade,"  addressing  the  good  knight7  "  it  is 
pretty  much  the  same  thing.  You  will  have  to  maintain 
me  so  long  as  we  tarry  in  this  land." 


114  bayaed's  liberality. 

Bayard  laughed.  The  proceeding  caused  no  ill-blood 
between  them ;  and  they  returned  in  company  to  Moner- 
vino,  from  their  visit  to  the  duke.  When  they  had  reached 
our  knight's  lodgings,  he  caused  his  ducats  to  be  displayed 
once  more  before  the  yearning  eyes  of  Tai'dieu. 

"  Comrade,"  said  he  to  the  disappointed  man,  as  his  fin- 
gers played  among  the  heap,  "  these  ai'e  very  pretty  play- 
things." 

"  What's  that  to  me  1"  answered  the  other.  "  I  have  no 
part  in  them.  Had  I  but  the  half  of  them,  I  were  a  made 
man  all  my  life  !" 

**  You  shall  have  them,  comrade  !"  was  the  response  of 
the  generous  knight.  "  What  you  could  not  wrest  fi'om  me 
by  force,  I  give  you  with  all  my  heart." 

The  act  followed  the  words.  Seven  thousand  five  hun- 
dred ducats  were  instantly  counted  out  in  the  presence  of 
the  incredulous  man,  and  put  in  his  possession.  He  could 
scarcely  believe  his  eyes,  and  thought  the  whole  proceed- 
ing a  jest,  until  perfectly  convinced  by  the  assurances  of  his 
superior.  Tardieu  was  overconie.  His  heart  smote  him 
for  what  he  had  done ;  and,  sinking  upon  his  knees,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  acknowledged  the  bounty  and  noble 
generosity  which  he  felt  ashamed  ever  to  have  questioned. 
WTien  he  spoke  of  the  benefit,  Bayard  relieved  him. 
**Hold  your  peace,  Tardieu,  this  is  nothing  to  what  I 
would  do  for  you  were  it  in  my  power."  But  Tardieu 
found  it  adequate  to  his  wants.  It  was  indeed  the  making 
of  his  fortune;  for  when,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  he 
returned  to  France,  it  enabled  him  to  marry  a  noble  lady, 
who  had  three  thousand  crowns  a  year. 

The  lavish  bounty  of  the  good  knight,  "  whose  heart," 
according  to  the  "  Loyal  Ser\^ant,"  was  "  pure  as  a  peai'l," 
did  not  stop  when  it  had  made  one  man  happy.  Calling 
together  all  his  troops,  he  shared  with  them  the  remaining 
moiety  of  his  prize,  without  reserving  a  single  ducat  for 
himself     He  even  suffered  the  treasurer  to  depgtrt  without 


HIS    FORBEARANCE.  115 

ransom,  and  without  subjecting  his  person  to  a  search — a 
forbearance  greatly  to  the  joy  of  the  latter,  who  still  car- 
ried with  him,  in  rings  and  money,  the  value  of  five  hun- 
dred ducats  more.  But  Bayard  was  moderate  in  his  de- 
sires, and  was  quite  satisfied  with  having  contributed,  even 
partially,  to  lessening  the  poor  man's  burthen. 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  several  tourneys  between  the  French,  Spanish  and 
Italian  cavaliers,  had  raised  the  courage  of  the  two  latter 
immeasurably.  According  to  the  Spanish  proverb,  "  The 
French  had  many  fine  horses,  but  few  Bayards."  That 
the  Italians  should  be  able  to  maintain  their  ground  at  all 
against  the  cavaliy  of  France  was  matter  of  great  exulta- 
tion among  a  people  to  whom  the  neighboring  nations  of 
the  continent  were  disposed  to  deny  the  ordinary  quality 
of  courage.  The  training  which  they  were  daily  receiving 
from  the  "  Great  Captain,"  with  the  examples  afforded 
them  of  stubborn  endurance  and  fierce  enthusiam  by  the 
Spanish  champions,  were  altogether  different  from  those 
lessons  for  which  they  had  been  hitherto  indebted  to  their 
mercenaries.  These,  under  the  command  of  a  Condottieri, 
who  had  no  interest  in  the  conflicts  in  which  they  engaged, 
other  than  flowed  from  the  certainty  of  pay,  seldom  perilled 
themselves  or  their  people,  where  danger  might  by  any  pos- 
sibility be  avoided.  Under  different  leaders  the  morale 
of  Italian  knighthood  underwent  large  improvement.  The 
nation  was  inspirited  by  their  displays  of  an  unexpected 
skill  and  audacity;  their  poets  found  inspiration  in  their 
deeds,  and  the  popular  feeling  was  roused  to  a  high  de- 
gree of  enthusiasm.  All  this  was  unfavorable  to  the  prog- 
ress of  the  arms  of  Louis,  whose  troops  do  not  seem  to 
have  been  well  commanded.  The  Duke  de  Nemours  was 
not  the  general  to  oppose  to  Gonsalvo,  and  the  latter  was 
supplied  with  new  troops  from  Spain,  while  the  former 
was  left  to  maintain  himself  without  adequate  succours. 
The  allies  of  Louis  were  of  a  sort  to  discredit  and  to  be- 


SUCCESSES    OF    THE    SPANIARDS.  117 

tray  any  alliance.  These  were  the  Borgias,  father  and 
son,  who,  having  won  over  the  Cardinal  d'Amboise,  the 
French  minister,  succeeded  in  poisoning  and  misleading 
the  counsels  of  the  monarch.  Under  these  evil  influences, 
the  foreign  policy  of  Louis  became  diverse  and  incon- 
sistent ;  and  the  King  of  Spain,  whose  whole  nature  was 
alive  to  artifice,  had  recourse  to  his  favorite  weapon  still 
more  to  enfeeble  the  action  of  his  enemy.  He  held  out  to 
Louis,  through  his  son-in-law,  the  Archduke  Philip,  then 
travelling  through  France,  the  promise  of  a  new  and  favor- 
able treaty,  by  which  Naples  was  to  be  brought  as  the 
dowry  of  the  Princess  Claude,  in  an  alliance  with  young 
Charles,  the  grandson  of  Charles  and  Maximilian.  Louis 
was  duped  by  this  negotiation,  and  entertaining  these 
suggestions,  relaxed  in  his  exertions  for  strengthening  his 
arms  in  Italy.  He  was  awakened  from  this  delusion  when 
it  was  too  late  to  repair  the  evil.  Ferdinand  had  em- 
ployed the  time,  thus  lost  by  the  French  monarch,  in 
sending  the  most  ample  succoi-s  to  Gonsalvo ;  and  the 
successes  of  the  Spanish  general  were  tlie  first  events  by 
which  Louie  was  taught  to  see  the  faithless  policy  of  his 
rivaL  Hitherto,  Gonsalvo  had  been  content  to  maintain 
his  gi'ound  at  B  arietta,  environed  by  the  French  army, 
which,  having  possessed  itself  of  the  suirounding  towns 
and  villages,  had  sought  to  enclose  him  in  an  impassable 
circle.  He  was  now  to  assume  the  offensive.  Suddenly 
falling  upon  the  town  and  fortress  of  Ruvo,  which  was 
defended  by  the  Lord  de  la  Palisse,  he  carried  the  place 
by  stoi-m.  Castellaneta,  another  town  which  the  Span- 
iards had  taken,  was  besieged  about  this  time  by  the 
French.  Hearing  of  the  siege  of  Ruvo,  the  Duke  de 
Nemoui'S  raised  that  of  Castellaneta,  in  order  to  relieve 
the  former,  and  by  this  proceeding  lost  both.  These  un- 
toward events  were  followed  by  the  defeat  of  D'Aubigny 
in  Calabria,  and  by  a  disaster  still  more  severe  in  the 
bloody  battle  of  Cerignola,  which  resulted  from  the  aban- 


118  DEFEAT    AT    CERIGNOLA. 

donment,  by  Gonsalvo,  of  his  long-held  post  at  Bai'letta. 
Finding  himself  in  sufficient  strength  to  emerge  from  this 
position,  he  announced  his  intention  to  the  Duke  of 
Nemours,  by  way  of  chivalric  defiance ;  and,  calling  in 
all  his  unnecessary  outposts,  he  sallied  forth  in  force 
to  meet  his  enemy.  Having  reached  Cerignola,  where 
the  French  possessed  large  store  of  munitions  and  pro- 
visions, he  was  soon  apprised  that  the  army  of  Nemours 
was  in  close  pursuit.  Had  the  latter  been  able  to  have 
overtaken  Gonsalvo  in  the  plain,  and  before  he  could  have 
attained  the  heights  of  Cerignola,  the  defeat  of  the  latter 
would  have  been  certain.  But  he  attained  the  eminence 
in  safety,  and,  throwing  up  a  small  fortification  among 
the  numerous  vineyards  upon  the  slope  of  the  hill,  and 
strewing  the  ground  before  it  with  stakes  and  broken  iron 
for  the  embarrassment  of  the  French  cavalry,  he  waited 
their  approach,  still  very  dubious  of  the  event,  and  in  a 
state  of  temporary  despondency  from  which  nothing  but 
the  actual  approach  of  combat  seemed  to  awaken  him. 
It  was  twilight  when  the  forces  of  Nemours  drew  nigh, 
his  troops  necessarily  fatigued  by  a  long  and  arduous 
march.  His  prudence  counselled  a  halt  for  the  night,  but 
his  destiny,  in  the  shape  of  an  insidious  associate,  in- 
sinuated that  such  a  delay  would  carry  with  it  every 
attribute  of  cowardice.  Stung  by  the  suggestion,  the 
French  commander  followed  the  guidance  of  his  evil 
genius.  He  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  men-at- 
arms  forming  his  vanguard,  and  gave  the  signal  for  the 
action.  His  advance  drew  upon  him  a  teiTible  fire  from 
the  musketry  and  artillery  of  the  Spaniards,  to  escape 
from  which  he  charged  at  full  gallop  up  the  heights.  At 
first  the  French  were  successful,  but  their  advantages 
were  temporary ;  and  their  leader,  the  Duke  de  Nemours, 
struck  by  a  musket-shot,  falling  dead  from  his  horse,  was 
the  signal  for  a  general  panic,  which  terminated  in  flight. 
The  fight  was  well  maintained  while  it  lasted,  but  it  was 


MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FRENCH.  119 

one  of  a  kind  in  which  there  could  be  no  displays  of  in- 
dividual valor.  It  was  a  melee, — a  wild  and  bloody  one, 
— hardily  fought  under  very  unequal  conditions,  in  which 
no  audacity  of  knighthood  could  avail  much  against  a  foe 
stubbornly  planted  and  in  a  position  of  considerable 
strength  and  security.  The  body  of  the  French  general 
was  found  among  the  slain.  The  debris  of  the  army  was 
collected  at  Gaeta,  a  place  of  considerable  strength. 

The  city  of  Naples,  after  this  event,  was  surrendered  to 
Gonsalvo.  Its  castle  was  taken  by  mining — a  mode  of 
offence,  we  may  here  remark,  which  was  first  employed 
during  these  wars  in  Italy.  In  a  little  time  the  fortress  of 
Gaeta  was  the  only  strong  post  in  the  kingdom  that  was 
held  by  the  French. 

Louis  was  exceedingly  mortified  by  these  defeats,  and 
put  in  force  all  his  energies  to  repair  and  redress  them. 
Despatching  a  powerful  army  through  the  Papal  states  into 
the  kingdom  of  Naples,  under  the  Duke  de  la  Tremouille, 
he  determined  also  to  assail  his  enemy  in  his  Spanish  do- 
minions. Large  bodies  of  troops  entered  the  provinces  of 
Roussillon  and  Fontarabia,  while  the  French  fleets  infested 
the  coasts  of  Valencia  and  Catalonia.  But  all  these  prepa- 
rations ended  in  disappointment.  La  Tremouille  fell  ill,  and 
Gonzaga,  the  marquis  of  Mantua,  who  succeeded  him  in  the 
command,  as  wanting,  probably,  in  zeal  as  in  talent,  succeed- 
ed in  achieving  nothing.  The  Pope,  the  ally  of  Louis,  was 
about  this  time  taken  in  his  own  snare,  being  poisoned  by 
wines  which  he  is  supposed  to  have  medicated  for  certain 
of  his  guests.  His  son,  Caesar  Borgia,  escaped  the  same  fate 
only  by  means  of  antidotes  promptly  administered  and  the 
strength  of  a  vigorous  constitution.  These  events  had  their 
influence  upon  the  armies  of  France  by  involving  them  in 
the  intrigues  for  the  papal  succession.  With  his  eye  fixed 
upon  the  chair  of  St.  Peter,  the  minister  of  Louis,  Cardinal 
d'Amboise,  had  the  art  to  persuade  his  master  to  direct  the 
troops  intended  for  Naples  to  the  vicinity  of  Rome,  their 


120  THEIR    STRONG-HOLD    OF    GAETA. 

presence  being  thought  likely  to  give  him  potency  in  the 
conclave  which  was  to  assemble  for  the  election  of  the  new 
Pope.  They  were  kept  in  this  subordinate  position,  the 
jest  of  the  Italians,  without  effecting  any  thing  toward  the 
desired  object,  and  at  the  expense  of  all  the  designs  which 
had  been  entertained  against  Naples.  .The  season  became 
too  far  advanced  for  active  operations;  and  severe  marches 
in  winter,  with  a  heavy  artillery,  over  roads  which  the 
heavy  rains  had  converted  into  quagmires,  told  fearfully 
upon  the  morale  of  the  French  army.  Several  attempts 
which  they  made  upon  fortified  towns  on  the  confines  of 
Naples  were  either  repulsed  or  only  partially  successful; 
and,  with  a  junction  of  all  his  forces,  and  the  aid  of  new 
levies,  Gonsalvo  was  prepared  to  throw  himself  across  their 
path,  whether  this  contemplated  invasion  or  retreat. 

The  whole  efforts  of  the  French  seemed  now  to  be  ad- 
dressed rather  to  a  retarding  of  the  progress  of  the  Span- 
iards than  to  the  acquisition  of  new  conquests.  The  re- 
mains of  the  old  army,  after  the  defeat  of  Cerignola,  were 
collected  by  the  Duke  d'Alegre  at  Gaeta.  Here  Gonsalvo 
sat  himself  down  with  his  forces,  but  without  being  able  to 
make  any  impression  upon  the  garrison.  The  approach  of 
the  newly-recruited  levies  of  the  French  caused  the  aban- 
donment of  the  siege,  and  he  retired,  to  wait  events,  upon 
Castellone.  Gaeta  was  relieved  by  the  Duke  de  la  Tre- 
mouille,  who,  being  now  joined  by  the  Marquis  of  Mantua, 
possessed  himself  of  the  duchy  of  Trajetto  and  the  district 
of  Fondi,  as  far  as  the  river  Garigliano. 

From  this  territory  it  was  now  the  object  of  Gonsalvo  to 
dispossess  him;  and  the  attempt  to  do  so  brings  us  to  one 
of  those  interesting  passages  in  the  life  of  Bayard  which 
contribute  to  form  the  peculiar  renown  upon  which  his 
reputation  rests.  Hitherto,  from  the  period  of  the  severe 
battle  of  Cerignola,  we  have  been  peimitted  to  see  nothing 
of  him  as  an  individual.  He  simply  ranked  with  the  brave 
but  unfortunate  chivalry,  who,  led  by  feeble  generals,  were 


THE    OPPOSING    ARMIES.  121 

required  to  atone  by  tlieir  valor,  and  consecrate,  by  their 
blood,  the  folly  and  crimes  of  their  superiors.  Of  his  own 
hairbreadth  'scapes  and  brave  exploits  during  all  this  in- 
terval we  have  no  record ;  and  the  degree  of  credit  which 
he  could  hope  to  assert,  as  one  of  a  baffled  army,  must  neces- 
sarily be  small.  Indeed,  it  is  in  contrast  with  the  deeds  of 
the  army,  at  this  period,  that  his  own  acquire  reputation. 
"  The  campaign,"  says  an  impartial  historian,  "served  but 
to  display  the  valor  of  the  brave  Bayard,  who  alone  de- 
fended the  passage  of  a  bridge  against  a  body  of  Spaniards 
for  a  considerable  time."*  This  achievement  acquired  for 
him  the  surname  of  the  French  Codes. t  The  facts  were 
these : — The  troops  of  the  French  were  posted  somewhat 
disadvantageously  on  the  marshy  banks  of  the  Garigliano, 
over  which  they  had  succeeded  in  throwing  a  bridge,  which 
would  facilitate  their  march  upon  Naples.  This  having 
passed,  it  was  calculated  that  the  whole  intermediate  tract 
of  country  between  them  and  the  capital  would  lie  open  to 
the  invaders,  with  no  greater  obstacles  in  their  way  than  the 
presence  of  Gonsalvo.  This,  itself,  was  something  of  an 
obstacle.  He,  with  the  Spanish  forces,  lay  in  waiting,  the 
river  only  separating  the  opposing  armies.  His  ti'oops 
were  in  high  spirits  from  recent  and  continued  successes. 
The  French,  from  the  same  cause,  were  doubtful  and  dis- 
pirited. Besides,  they  lacked  confidence  in  their  leader, 
the  Marquis  of  Mantua,  who  was  a  foreigner  of  small  tal- 
ents and  no  enterprise.  Gonsalvo  was  not  unwilling  to 
give  his  enemy  battle.  There  were  two  ways  of  crossing 
the  river  :  by  the  bridge  which  the  French  had  raised,  and 
of  which  they  were  in  possession,  and  by  a  ford  at  some 
distance  from  it,  which  they  also  guarded.  It  was  deter- 
mined that  a  feint  should   be   made  at  the  ford,  while  a 

*  Crowe's  History  of  France,  vol.  i.,  p.  145. 

t  See  Livy,  for  the  achievement  of  Publius  Horatius  Codes,  who  defend- 
ed a  bridge  against  the  whole  army  of  Porsenna.  See,  also,  Macaiiley's 
fine  poem  among  his  admirably-conceived  ballads  of  ancient  Rome. 

L 


122  DON    PEDRO    PAZ. 

Strong  body  of  men  should  attempt  the  bridge.  The  pass- 
age of  the  ford  was  entrusted  to  one  Pedro  Paz.  This 
was,  in  several  respects,  a  very  remarkable  person.  Though 
one  of  the  most  fearless  and  sagacious  warriors,  he  was  yet 
scarcely  more  than  half  the  height  of  an  ordinary  maii ;  a 
hunchback  to  whom  Richard  Crookback  was  a  model 
of  manly  beauty  ;  of  whom,  when  he  was  mounted  on  horse- 
back, you  could  see  little  above  the  saddle  than  an  enor- 
mous head  and  pair  of  shoulders.  But  never  did  character 
more  completely  give  the  lie  to  outward  seeming.  Don 
Pedro  could  use  his  lance  and  steed  with  any  of  his  com- 
rades ;  and,  admitted  to  counsel,  it  was  acknowledged  that 
none  surpassed  him  in  the  exhibition  of  a  judgment  at  once 
bold  and  circumspect,  adventurous  and  sage.  This  doughty 
warrior,  the  preparations  of  the  cooperating  parties  being 
all  completed,  proceeded  somewhat  ostentatiously  to  effect 
the  passage  of  the  river  by  the  w^ell-known  ford.  He  had 
under  him  a  couple  of  hundred  horsemen,  each  of  whom 
earned  a  foot-soldier  behind  him.  The  ruse  was  so  far 
successful  as  to  draw  upon  Senor  Pedro  the  attention  of  the 
whole  French  army.  At  the  first  alarm — on  the  first  wild 
intimation  that  the  van  of  the  w^hole  Spanish  army  was 
about  to  cross  the  river  at  the  ford — the  French,  turning  out 
simultaneously,  hunied  to  prevent  the  passage.  They 
probably  succeeded  in  doing  so,  for  we  learn  that,  satisfied 
that  no  farther  danger  was  to  be  apprehended  from  this 
quarter,  they  retired  to  their  tents,  fully  beheving  that  they 
would  be  vexed  with  no  more  alarms  that  day.  Bayard 
alone  seems  to  have  been  wary  and  suspicious.  He  must 
have  known  and  felt,  quite  as  painfully  as  any  other  person, 
the  inferior  abilities  of  the  generals  by  whom  the  French 
troops  were  sacrificed  rather  than  commanded.  At  all 
events,  it  happened,  fortunately  for  his  own  fame  and  for 
the  army,  that  he  was  well  armed,  mounted,  and  near  the 
bridge,  when  the  more  serious  attempt  was  to  be  made  in 
that  quarter  by  the   Spaniards.     He  had  with  him  but  a 


BAYARD    DEFENDS    THE    BRIDGE    ALONE.  123 

single  companion,  one  PieiTe  de  Tardes,  surnamed  Le 
Basque,  an  equeiTy  to  the  King  of  France  ;  and  not  a  single 
follower.  These  two,  hearing  the  tread  of  horse,  looked 
forth  to  the  Spanish  side  of  the  river,  and  discovered  about 
two  hundred  horse  making  directly  for  the  bridge.  The 
danger  was  imminent,  for  the  loss  of  the  bridge,  at  that 
moment,  involved  the  safety  of  the  whole  army.  To  sound 
the  alarm  and  fly  would  have  been  the  probable  course, 
under  such  circumstances,  with  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  men  in  the  thousand.  To  dream  of  arresting  the 
torrent  by  the  single  will  and  resistance  of  one  man  -vVould. 
scarcely  be  thought  of  by  one  person  in  the  million.  Yet 
such  was  the  instinct  of  our  chevalier.  It  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  a  matter  of  reflection  with  him.  It  was  a  thing 
of  course  that  he  should  keep  the  post  at  all  hazards. 

"  Speed  you,  my  friend,"  he  said  to  the  equerry,  "  and 
gather  some  of  our  men  to  maintain  the  bridge,  or  we  are 
all  ruined.  I  will  endeavor  to  keep  the  enemy  in  play 
till  you  return ;  but  hasten,  for  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost." 

The  equerry  disappeared  on  the  instant ;  and  Bayard, 
crossing  the  bridge,  upon  the  extremity  of  which  the  Span- 
iards were  about  to  pass,  chose  his  position  with  some  re- 
gard to  the  difficulty  which  he  should  probably  have  in 
maintaining  it.  Putting  his  lance  in  rest,  he  charged  the 
head  of  the  advancing  column  at  the  very  threshold,  tum- 
bling two  of  them  headlong  into  the  river,  from  whence  they 
never  emerged,  and  two  more  upon  the  banks,  at  the  veiy 
first  thrust  of  his  weapon.  This  brought  upon  him  a  host ; 
but  their  veiy  numbers,  impeding  their  progi'ess  in  the  nar- 
row gorge  which  he  defended,  contributed  somewhat  to  his 
security.  Never  were  charges  more  desperate  or  more 
successful  than  those  which  he  made  that  day.  Great  was 
the  sui-prise  of  the  Spaniards  to  behold  one  man  thus 
furiously  darting  upon  their  squadrons.  At  first  they  re- 
garded him  as  one  delivered  up  and  devoted  to  destruction  ; 
but  not  so  when  they  sunk  beneath  his  assault,  and  were 


124  HIS  PROWESS. 

hurled,  by  his  adroit  exercise  of  horse  and  lance,  by 
threes  and  fours,  headlong  into  the  stream.  Astounded, 
almost  appalled  at  first,  they  recoiled  from  before  him;  but 
eoon  recovering,  they  gave  him  enough  to  do.  With  his 
back  to  the  railing  of  the  bridge,  so  that  they  might  not 
assail  him  from  behind,  he  confounded  them  by  the  rapidity, 
the  dexterity  and  the  force  of  his  movements.  As  many 
as  might  do  so  assailed  him  at  the  same  moment  These 
he  was  not  only  to  encounter  and  resist  as  vi^ell  as  he  was 
able,  but  he  was  to  do  this  and  keep  his  position  at  the 
same  time,  so  that  none  of  them  might  contrive  to  get  be- 
tween him  and  the  bridge.  This  was  no  easy  performance. 
But  Bayard  was  not  only  a  brave  and  skilful  wanior — 
skilful  beyond  his  time — but  he  was  one  of  those  wondrous 
horsemen  whose  power  of  managing  the  steed  is  a  mys- 
tery— such  as  the  Arab  of  the  desert  possesses,  but  such  as 
orrlinary  riders  cannot  understand.  With  an  eye  that 
seemed  to  look  out  from  every  part  of  his  body  at  the  same 
time,  and  a  hand  and  weapon  that  seconded  admirably 
every  movement  of  his  eye,  he  beheld,  and  foiled  his  as- 
sailants, crowding  in  on  every  side.  The  powerful,  but 
docile  and  well-trained  animal  that  bore  his  weight,  seemed 
imbued  with  his  own  spirit ;  and  the  two  wrought  together 
so  admirably  and  so  successfully,  that  the  Spaniards  were 
persuaded  of  a  miracle — such  as  they  themselves  so  fre- 
quently beheld  wrought  in  their  own  behalf  on  the  field  of 
battle,  when  their  patron  saint  took  up  the  cudgels  of  war, 
and  came  to  their  rescue  at  the  lucky  moment.  They  could 
make  no  impression  on  our  chevalier — could  advance  no 
footstep ;  and,  looking  upon  him  as  a  fiend,  rather  than  a 
mortal,  were  compelled  to  admire  the  skill  and  courage 
which  promised  still  to  bafl[le  their  best  attempts.  How 
long  a  conflict  so  unequal  might  have  been  maintained,  it  is 
not  easy  to  conjecture.  Reason  assures  us  that  it  must 
terminate  at  last  in  the  exhaustion  and  overthrow  of  the 
single  champion,  however  gloriously  endowed  with  ability 


DEFEATS  AND  PURSUES  THE  SPANIARDS.      125 

and  strength.  In  sheer  desperation  and  shame  the  baffled 
host  would  press  upon  him,  and  bear  him  forward  as  a  leaf 
borne  by  the  storm,  by  the  very  impulse  of  their  headlong 
weight  and  momentum.  But  he  was  relieved  before  it  was 
too  late.  Smiting  fiercely  with  his  sword  (his  lance  hav- 
ing long  since  been  shivered),  he  heard  the  approach- 
ing gallop  of  his  gallant  comrades.  The  war-cry  of  his 
faithful  gens  d'arnis  rose  behind  him,  and  crowned  his  de- 
fence with  ti'iumph.  As  they  came  thundering  down  across 
the  bridge,  he  assumed  the  offensive  ;  the  Spaniards  yielded 
before  him;  and,  leading  his  companions,  the  exulting 
chevalier  pressed  fiercely  upon  them  in  pursuit. 

This  was  an  error.  The  jiarty  that  came  to  the  relief 
of  Bayard,  and  which  Pierre  de  Tardes  had  hastily  col- 
lected in  the  emergency,  consisted  of  only  a  hundred  men. 
They  were  soon  encountered  by  a  large  body  of  the  Span- 
ish horse,  seven  or  eight  hundred  in  number,  huiTying  for- 
ward to  support  their  comrades,  or  to  make  secure  the  post 
which  it  was  supposed  they  had  acquired.  It  was  at  sight 
of  these  that  Bayard  arrested  the  pursuit,  "We  have 
done  enough,"  said  he,  "  my  comrades,  in  having  saved  the 
bridge.  Let  us  now  retire,  keeping  as  close  together  as 
we  can."  But  they  were  not  permitted  to  retire  so  quietly. 
The  retreat  was  begun  in  an  orderly  manner,  but  soon 
became  a  flight.  Bayard,  who  usually  led  into  action,  in  a 
retreat  always  brought  up  the  rear.  Such  was  his  position 
now.  But,  in  taking  it,  he  had  not  allowed  for  the  hard 
service  which  his  horse  had  already  endured  that  day.  The 
faithful  animal  soon  show^ed  signs  of  distress  and  exhaustion, 
and  the  knight  soon  found  it  impossible  to  keep  up  with 
his  comrades.  As  the  Spaniards  pressed  more  closely  upon 
them,  they  began  to  scatter,  and  a  concentrated  rush  of 
their  battalions  tumbled  several  of  the  Frenchmen  from 
their  saddles,  and  drove  the  survivors  out  of  sight — all  but 
Bayard.  His  steed  was  the  first  to  falter.  He  had  wheeled 
about  to  do  battle  as  the  enemy  drew  nigh,  and  was  forced 


126  BAYAllD    A    CAPTIVE. 

backward  in  the  shock,  his  horse  sinking  up  to  his  haunches 
in  a  ditch.  Surrounded  by  twenty  or  thirty  assailants, 
fettered  as  it  were  by  the  situation  of  the  animal,  our  hero 
continued  to  bear  about  him  bravely,  giving  hard  blows, 
and  never  thinking  of  suiTender.  *^Rende,  Rende,  Sefior  /" 
was  the  cry  of  the  Spaniards.  '*  I  fear  I  can  not  choose  but 
surrender,"  was  the  answer  of  Bayard,  "since  alone  I  can 
not  well  withstand  you  all !" 

They  deprived  him  of  the  battle-axe  with  which  he  had 
been  fighting,  leaving  him  in  possession  of  his  sword.  Had 
they  conjectured  the  name  and  quality  of  their  prisoner, 
they  would  not  have  been  guilty  of  this  en'or.  But  he  had 
kept  his  secret.  His  face  concealed  by  his  visor — his  per- 
son in  ai-mor — they  only  knew  that  they  had  captured  a 
very  powerful  and  valiant  knight,  but  had  no  idea  that  he 
was  the  man  of  all  others  whom  they  most  desired  to  make 
captive.  Bayard  knew  the  danger  to  himself,  to  his  life, 
probably,  by  letting  his  name  be  known.  He  had  long 
been  the  teiTor  of  their  cavalry,  and  had  no  reason  to  think 
that  his  life  would  be  spared  should  he  fall  into  their  hands 
in  the  heat  of  battle.  When  questioned  of  himself,  accor- 
dingly, he  gave  them  another  name  for  his  own.  They  nev- 
er thought  to  exact  from  him  his  parole  d'honneur.  Secure 
of  their  prize,  and  confident  in  their  numbers,  they  scorned 
to  betray  any  doubts  that  they  could  keep  him  safe  among 
them,  and  rode  slowly  away  with  their  captive  on  their 
return  to  camp.  The  party  having  him  in  charge  brought 
ujD  the  rear  of  their  battalion,  the  greater  body  having 
withdrawn  from  the  ground  after  the  dispersion  of  the 
French,  and  when  they  learned  that  the  force  which  had 
been  sent  for  the  purpose  had  failed  in  securing  the  bridge. 

But  our  good  knight  was  not  abandoned  by  his  comrades. 
When  they  reassembled  at  the  bridge,  and  found  that  he 
was  not  among  them,  the  alarm  was  given  instantly.  The 
first  to  speak  was  the  Chevalier  Guiffray,  a  gentleman  of 
Dauphiny,  and  near  neighbor  of  Bayard.     "  Ah  !  gentle- 


HE    IS    RESCUED.  127 

men,  said  he  "  we  have  lost  every  thing,  since  the  good 
Captain  Bayard  is  not  w^ith  us.  He  is  either  slain  or  tak- 
en. And  shall  we,  whom  he  hath  so  well  conducted,  and 
for  whom  he  hath  won  so  much  honor  this  very  day,  shall 
we  not  see  what  has  become  of  himl  I  vow  to  God  that 
I  will  have  tidings  of  him,  at  all  hazards,  though  I  return 
alone  to  seek  them  !" 

The  resolve  of  the  knight  Guiffray  was  that  of  all.  All 
were  equally  afflicted  and  equally  resolute.  "  We  will  all 
return  !"  was  the  cry,  and  each  man  alighted  to  tighten  the 
girths  of  his  horse.  They  were  soon  remounted  and  speed- 
ing away  "  at  a  great  gallop  after  the  Spaniards  who  were 
cariying  away  the  flower  and  perfection  of  all  gentility." 
They  were  successful  in  overhauling  the  retiring  enemy 
before  they  had  regained  the  camp.  Their  first  cry,  as 
they  rushed  upon  them,  informed  them  of  that  which  the 
wary  Bayard  had  kept  secret.  '*  Turn  ye,  Spaniards,  turn  ; 
and  think  not  thus  to  cany  off  with  ye  the  flower  of  all 
knighthood  !"  The  Spaniards  did  face  about,  and,  being 
still  numerous,  received  the  shock  of  the  assault  with 
spirit  and  firmness.  But  in  this  shock  several  of  them  were 
dismounted.  In  the  moment  of  the  rush  and  struggle  which 
followed,  Bayard  freed  himself  fi'om  his  guard  and  threw 
himself  from  his  jaded  steed  upon  the  ground.  At  that  for- 
tunate moment,  the  equeny,  he  Basque,  succeeded  in  tum- 
bling out  of  his  saddle  a  brave  Spaniard,  named  Salvador 
de  Borgia.  This  man  had  been  well  mounted.  To  seize 
upon  the  bridle  of  the  freed  horse — to  leap  into  the  seat 
without  touching  the  stirrup — to  draw  his  sword  and  lay 
about  him  among  the  enemy,  was,  for  our  chevalier,  the 
work  of  a  single  moment  and  impulse.  His  well-known 
battle-cry,  "  France  ! — Bayard  !" — "■  Bayard,  who  was  late 
your  prisoner!"  struck  ten'or  into  the  Spaniards,  and  suffi- 
ciently taught  them  who  had  been  their  captive.  They  lost 
heart  as  the  French  gained  it,  by  this  discovery.  The  loss  of 
such  a  prisoner  was,  indeed,  the  loss  of  hope  and  victory. 


128  VIRES    AGMINIS    UNUS    HABET. 

"  Let  us  away  to  camp,"  was  the  cry  among  them,  "  we 
shall  do  nothing  great  to-day !"  This  cry  struck  a  panic 
through  their  ranks.  They  fled  shamefully  from  a  contest 
in  which  their  numbers  and  previous  successes  should  have 
ensured  them  a  complete  victory.  The  approach  of  night 
found  the  French  safe  in  camp,  too  happy  in  having  helped 
to  extricate  their  guidon  d'honneur  from  the  hands  of  the 
enemy.  Here,  for  a  week,  nothing  was  spoken  of  but  the 
prowess  of  our  chevalier.  It  was  at  this  period,  and  in 
relation  to  his  defence  at  the  bridge,  that  he  received  for  his 
device  a  porcupine,  with  the  appropriate  motto,  "  Vires 
agminis  unus  habet'" — "  One  alone  is  equal  to  an  army." 


CHAPTER  XII. 


But  the  bridge  thus  vahantly  defended  by  a  single  man 
was  not  to  be  maintained  even  by  an  army.  The  gallantly 
of  the  few  availed  little  against  an  enemy  when  he  was 
succored  by  the  incompetence  of  their  own  captains.  The 
French  chivalry  were  indignant  at  the  fortune  which  assigned 
them  to  the  command,  not  only  of  a  foreigner,  but  one  so  to- 
tally devoid  of  entei-prise  and  skill ;  who  kept  them  station- 
ary when  courage  and  shame  equally  demanded  their  ad- 
vance, and  who  opposed  even  their  occasional  successes  by 
the  paralysing  influence  of  his  own  evil  fortune.  They  did 
not  conceal  their  indignation  and  contempt,  and  the  expres- 
sion of  their  disgust  and  scom  became  so  open  and  humili- 
ating at  last,  that  the  incompetent  general  withdrew  from  the 
command,  which  he  had  shown  so  little  capacity  to  fill.  He 
earned  with  him  a  large  body  of  Italian  troops  whom  he 
had  brought  into  the  field,  and  this  defection  tended  still  more 


130  BATTLE    OF    GARIGLFANO. 

to  lessen  the  hopes  of  the  French,  whom  continued  ill  suc- 
cesses had  done  so  much  to  depress  and  dispirit.  Gon- 
zaga  was  succeeded  by  the  Marquis  of  Saluces,  but  his 
generalship  was  not  more  fortunate  than  that  of  his  prede- 
cessor. It  required  something  more  than  an  ordinary  sol- 
dier and  man  of  spirit  to  oppose  Gonsalvo,  acknowledged 
as  the  greatest  captain  of  his  time ;  and  the  declining 
morale  of  the  French  troops  demanded  a  stimulus  to  exer- 
tion of  a  kind  equally  novel  and  imposing. 

Foiled  in  the  attempt  to  carry  the  bridge,  of  which  the 
French  had  possession,  and  despairing  to  cross  the  ford, 
which  was  equally  difficult  and  guarded  by  their  whole 
army,  Gonsalvo,  with  great  secrecy,  proceeded  to  the  con- 
struction of  a  bridge  a  few  miles  above,  at  Suio,  while 
he  kept  his  enemy  busily  employed  in  front.  A  succor  of 
three  thousand  men  about  this  time  reached  the  camp  of 
the  Spaniards.  This  emboldened  the  decision  of  Gonsalvo. 
His  bridge  at  Suio  was  soon  finished.  To  pass  this  bridge 
secretly  with  a  large  body  of  his  forces,  while  the  rest  of 
his  army  should  assail  them  on  the  front,  was  the  well-con- 
ceived project  of  the  Spanish  captain.  He  crossed  the 
Garigliano,  accordingly,  on  the  night  of  the  28th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1503,  the  French  totally  unsuspecting  danger  from  this 
quarter.  This  strange  neglect  of  some  of  the  first  princi- 
ples of  warfare  will  suffice  to  show  how  miserably  they 
were  still  commanded.  On  the  following  morning  the 
French  were  attacked  by  the  enemy  in  front,  led  by  Bar- 
tolomeo  d'Alviano.  The  engagement  that  followed  was  a 
terrible  one.  The  French  fought  with  gi'eat  bravery,  and 
their  artillery  did  immense  execution  upon  the  Spanish 
columns.  ]5ut,  in  the  midst  of  the  conflict,  and  while  all  the 
probabilities  of  the  field  were  with  the  former,  they  were 
suddenly  assailed  in  the  rear  by  the  fresh  army  under 
Gonsalvo.  The  suiprise  was  complete,  a  panic  followed, 
and  the  day  was  lost.  The  French  fled,  at  first,  in  confu- 
sion, but  their  order  was  soon  recovered  by  the  great  efForts 


THE  FRENCH  LEAVE  ITALY.  131 

of  their  men-at-arms.  These  kept  the  rear,  turning  occa- 
sionally to  the  encounter  with  their  assailants,  whenever  their 
pressure  furnished  the  provocation,  or  whenever  the  ground 
gave  them  an  opportunity  to  fight  with  advantage.  Our 
hero  was  necessarily  one  of  those  to  whom  this  dangerous 
and  arduous  duty  was  assigned.  A  feeble  attempt  was 
made  by  the  French,  at  the  bridge  of  Mola,  to  an-est  the 
progi'ess  of  the  exulting  and  advancing  Spaniards,  but  the 
effort  was  in  vain.  With  little  confidence  in  their  own  for- 
tune, or  in  the  genius  of  their  general,  they  opposed  but 
a  feeble  resistance  to  their  foes.  The  rout  became  com- 
plete. The  French  lost  their  baggage,  their  artillery,  and 
eight  thousand  men.  And  this  was  the  issue  of  the  splen- 
did efforts  which  Louis  XII.  had  made  for  the  recovery  of 
Naples.  He  had  set  his  heart  upon  the  possession  of  this 
lovely  kingdom,  and  the  failure  of  his  hopes  was  nearly  fatal 
to  his  life. 

The  gi-eat  body  of  the  French  troops  soon  disappeared 
from  Italy  after  the  rout  of  the  Garigliano.  But  Bayard 
did  not  depart  with  the  main  army.  He,  with  some  small 
garrisons,  still  held  for  the  French  in  Puglia,  in  company 
with  his  captain,  Louis  d'Ars,  for  more  than  a  year  after 
the  rout  of  the  army.  These  kept  their  ground  successfully, 
and  in  the  teeth  of  all  opposition.  We  are  told  in  general 
terms  of  fi-equent  sallies  in  which  he  engaged  during  this 
time,  always  coming  off  with  honor  and  success  ;  but  the 
details  of  a  partisan  warfare  are  seldom  put  on  record  in  the 
histories  of  a  nation,  and  the  biogi'apher  fails  us  here  except 
in  similar  generalities.  The  garrisons  of  the  French,  and 
Bayard  along  with  them,  were  finally  recalled  from  Italy. 
Before  his  final  departure  he  received  a  visit  from  a  noble 
Italian,  who  attempted  to  win  his  confidence  by  caresses 
and  flatteries,  which  were  quite  too  little  to  the  taste  of 
our  hero  to  render  the  gentleman  successful  in  his  object. 
He  came  from  Rome,  despatched  by  the  pope,  Julius  II., 
with  proposals  to  Bayard  that  he  should  enter  the  service 


132      BAYARD   RECEIVES   AN    OFFER    FROM    THE   POPE. 

of  the  Church,  and  take  command  of  its  armies,  with  a  large 
salary  and  the  title  of  generalissimo.  But  Bayard  did  not 
forget  the  counsels  of  his  father.  He  was  neither  won  by 
the  flatteries  of  the  embassador  nor  by  the  tempting  offers 
which  he  brought.  He  replied,  respectfully  and  gratefully, 
to  the  successor  of  St.  Peter,  that  he  could  never  serve  but 
in  the  armies  of  the  King  of  France,  and  that  he  was  bet- 
ter pleased  to  be  a  common  soldier  under  his  natural  sov- 
ereign than  be  the  head  of  an  aniiy  under  a  foreign  prince. 
Before  leaving  Italy,  and  when  first  commanded  to  do 
so.  Bayard  assured  his  superior  that  he  could  still  keep 
his  ground  in  spite  of  all  the  forces  of  the  Spaniards.  But 
the  orders  of  the  French  monarch  were  peremptory.  He 
was  not  willing  to  risk,  by  any  temerity,  some  of  his  most 
able  warriors.  The  retreat  which  was  made  by  the  small 
body  of  men  commanded  Ijy  Louis  d'Ars,  has  been  consid- 
ered a  remarkable  proof  of  military  skill.  Reaching  the 
royal  residence.  Bayard  was  made  equeiTy  to  the  king, 
and  honored  with  the  first  vacant  company  of  horse.  Peace 
followed  with  the  Spaniards  ;  and,  if  the  eyes  of  the  French 
were  ever  turned  upon  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  it  was  with 
an  appetite  that  did  not  seem  impatient  for  the  object  of 
its  desire.  Our  hero  lay  inactive.  Indeed,  he  had  reason  to 
do  so.  His  quartan  ague,  to  which  he  had  been  a  victim  at 
intervals  for  more  than  seven  years,  still  clung  to  him  with 
the  tenacity  of  a  revengeful  foe.  He  also  suffered  some- 
what from  an  old  wound  of  a  pike,  which,  having  been  ill 
attended,  perhaps  neglected,  had  produced  an  ulcer  which 
was  difficult  to  heal.  In  this  condition  of  body,  the  good 
knight  remained  at  Lyons.  There,  in  1506,  he  was  found 
when  a  revolt  of  the  Genoese,  at  the  instigation  of  Julius 
II.  and  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  again  called  for  the  pres; 
ence  of  the  French  arms  in  Italy. 

The  Genoese  had  long  been  oscillating  between  their 
desire  for  freedom  and  their  fear  of  the  power  of  France. 
Incapable  of  the  former  condition,  they  were  scarcely  equal 


BAYARD    REJOINS    THE    ARMY.  133 

to  the  resolution  and  vigor  which  were  necessary  to  extri- 
cate them  from  their  dependence  upon  the  French.  They 
were  stimulated  by  those  who  did  not  succor  them.  The 
King  of  France  himself  prepared  to  lead  his  armies  against 
them,  and,  with  this  knowledge,  the  spirit  of  Bayard 
would  not  suffer  him  to  rest.  Still  suffering  from  his  wound 
and  ague,  he  regarded  it  as  a  sort  of  baseness  to  permit 
his  sovereign  to  seek  the  wars,  and  to  withhold  himself. 
A  few  days  sufficed  to  set  his  house  in  order,  and  we 
find  him  again  on  horseback,  and  in  the  wake  of  the 
army.  He  soon  presented  himself  before  the  king,  and  was 
well  received.  He  came  at  a  seasonable  moment.  The 
Genoese  were  somewhat  surprised  by  the  rapid  move- 
ments of  the  French,  not  having  received  from  their  allies 
the  succors  which  had  been  promised  them ;  but  they  took 
heart  with  the  approach  of  danger,  and  proceeded  to  foitify 
themselves  vigorously  against  attack.  They  had  occupied 
the  top  of  a  mountain,  which  the  French  were  compelled 
to  pass,  with  a  fortress  of  considerable  strength.  This  was 
well  manned  and  served  with  an  efficient  artillery.  The 
invaders  were  disquieted  by  this  unexpected  obstacle.  A 
council  of  war  was  held,  in  which  opinions  were  divided,  as 
is  usual  on  such  occasions,  and  so  divided  as  to  lead  to  no 
satisfactory  results.  Bayard,  though  present,  was  silent, 
until  the  king  looked  to  him  and  commanded  him  to  speak. 
Then  he  answered,  "  On  my  honor,  sire,  I  know  not  yet 
what  to  say.  I  must  first  make  a  reconnaissance  :  give  me 
but  an  hoar's  leave,  and  I  will  ascend  the  mountain  and 
see  what  is  the  strength  of  the  place.  In  that  time,  unless 
I  am  taken  or  slain,  I  shall  bring  you  the  necessary  infor- 
mation." The  king  consented,  and  Bayard  disappeared. 
He  soon  gathered  around  him  a  select  body  of  his  friends 
and  followers,  to  the  number  of  a  hundred  or  a  hundred 
and  twenty.  Some  of  these  were  distinguished  noblemen, 
among  whom  were  two  noble  lords  of  the  House  of  Foix  ; 
the  lords  of  Barbasan  and  of  L'Esparre,  sons  of  Viscount 

M 


134  SKIRMISH    WITH    THE    GENOESE. 

Lauti'ec  ;  all  willing  to  follow  a  leader  whose  experience 
and  chivalry,  it  was  well  known,  would  never  lead  to 
any  but  paths  of  honor  and  distinction.  His  comrades 
assembled,  he  led  the  way  by  commencing  the  ascent  of 
the  mountain,  which,  on  the  side  that  he  chose  to  assail, 
was  so  steep  that  the  object  could  only  be  effected  by  la- 
borious climbing  on  hands  and  knees.  The  toil  was  hard 
to  reach  the  summit,  where,  taking  breath  a  little,  he  made 
his  preparations  for  advancing  upon  the  fortress.  Mean- 
while, he  caused  the  alarm  to  be  sounded  by  the  army  be- 
low, by  which  to  effect  something  like  a  diversion  in  his 
favor.  Resuming  his  advance,  he  soon  encountered  a  body 
of  the  enemy,  with  whom  a  sharp  conflict  ensued,  resulting 
in  the  dispersion  of  the  Genoese.  His  followers  would 
have  pursued  them,  but  this  Bayard  would  not  allow— ob- 
sei-ving  that  it  was  necessary  to  see  what  the  fort  contained, 
lest  they  should  find  themselves  between  two  fires.  The 
event  justified  his  caution.  The  fort  was  full  of  men.  The 
troop  which  had  been  dispersed  was  one  that  was  set  to 
watch  one  of  the  avenues  of  approach.  A  rapid  survey 
satisfied  Bayard  that  the  fort  itself  should,  be  attempt- 
ed. His  men  were  eager  for  the  contest,  and  they  were 
such  mostly  as  might  be  relied  on.  The  Genoese  were 
three  hundred  in  number  and  beaiing  a  good  countenance. 
We  must  suppose  that  our  hero  took  his  precautions 
properly,  in  bringing  on  the  fight,  so  as  to  lessen  the  dis- 
parity between  his  force  and  that  of  the  enemy.  The  latter 
fought  bravely  for  a  while,  but  could  not  long  resist  the  im- 
petuous ardor  of  the  French.  The  place  was  captured  by 
a  coup  de  main.  The  Genoese  fled  at  length  from  its  walls  as 
their  foes  entered ;  and,  inishing  down  the  mountain  precip- 
itately, made  their  way  toward  the  city ;  but  not  without 
leaving  many  of  their  number  upon  the  field.  This  single 
achievement,  due  entirely  to  the  courage  and  conduct  of 
Bayard,  was  enough  for  the  Genoese.  They  offered  no 
farther  opposition  to  the  arms  of  the  French  monarch,  who 


THE    MEETING    OF    THE    KINGS.  135 

entered  their  city,  and,  in  making  the  inhabitants  defray  the 
expences  of  the  war,  received  them  to  his  gracious  mercy. 
Beheading  a  couple  of  their  generals,  and  building  a  strong 
castle  at  their  cost,  and  for  their  protection,  he  was  sup- 
posed to  have  sufficiently  punished  the  revolters,  for  one 
season  at  least.  The  Pope,  who  had  promised  the  Genoese 
several  thousand  Bressignols — a  class  of  foot-soldiers,  the 
best  in  Italy — failed  to  do  so,  and  Maximilian  came  too  late, 
and  was  not  permitted  by  the  Venetians — then  the  allies  of 
France — to  march  into  Italy.  They  defeated  him,  and  com- 
pelled him  to  a  disadvantageous  treaty,  in  which,  as  they 
neglected  to  make  the  French  a  party,  they  naturally  dis- 
pleased their  allies ;  the  consequences  of  which  were  not 
slow  in  showing  themselves.  Meanwhile,  the  kings  of 
France  and  An-agon  once  more  embraced  in  bonds  of  peace 
and  amity  ;  the  niece  of  the  former  becoming  the  wife  of  the 
latter.  The  two  kings  met  in  the  town  of  Savona,  where 
four  days  were  spent  in  secret  conferences,  and  where,  it  is 
not  unreasonably  conjectured,  was  originated  that  cele- 
brated league  of  Cambray  which  involved  Italy  in  new 
calamities.  The  King  of  Airagon  was  attended,  among 
others,  by  the  famous  captain,  Gonsalvo,  to  whom  Louis 
paid  the  most  grateful  attentions  ;  while  Bayard  and  Captain 
d'Ars  were,  in  like  manner,  distinguished  by  the  Spanish 
monarch.  "  Happy  !  my  royal  brother,"  said  the  King  of 
Arragon,  "  happy  is  the  prince  who  can  boast  of  two  such 
knights  as  these  !"  But  the  applauses  bestowed  by  the 
French  monarch  upon  Gonsalvo,  were  probably  far  less 
grateful  to  his  master  than  were  those  to  the  ears  of  Louis 
which  the  former  tendered  to  his  knights.  It  was  at  the 
solicitation  of  Louis  that  Gonsalvo  was  permitted  to  dine 
wdth  the  two  sovereigns.  This  distinction  was  the  last  that 
he  enjoyed.  As  if  he  resented  or  suspected  these  compli- 
ments, the  Spanish  monarch,  from  that  day,  dismissed  his 
great  commander  to  unmerited  disgrace.  The  very  favors 
of  the  French  king  may  have  offended  the  hauteur  of  the 


136  SPORTS    AND    PASTIMES. 

jealous  Spaniard.  This  was  ever  the  characteristic  of  the 
race.  Gonsalvo,  dismissed  to  obscurity,  without  trust  or 
employment,  and  living  in  the  frown  of  his  sovereign,  did 
not  long  survive.  Death  relieved  him  of  the  odium  in 
which  the  latter  years  of  his  life  were  passed,  and  a  splendid 
funeral  at  the  expense  of  Ferdinand  may  have  been  thought 
amply  to  atone  for  the  injustice  which  shortened  his  days, 
and  doomed  his  great  talents  to  oblivion.  His  career,  in 
this  respect,  was  far  less  fortunate  than  that  of  Bayard. 

On  his  route  homeward,  Louis  was  received  at  Milan  with 
great  honors,  and  entertained  after  the  fashion  of  the  times. 
The  brief  description  of  this  entertainment,  as  given  us  by 
more  than  one  early  chronicler,  will  not  fail  to  interest  the 
modern  reader  :  "  On  this  journey  the  Lord  J.  J.  Trevulzio 
entertained  the  king  at  a  banquet  where  there  were  as 
many  ladies,  with  bunches  of  feathers  to  fan  their  faces 
withal,  as  you  may  see  plumes  in  a  company  of  a  thousand 
gens  d'arms.  After  supper  the  dancing  began,  and  the 
king  himself,  who  could  perform  very  well  in  this  way, 
danced  with  the  rest,  but  not  very  much.  His  partner  was 
the  Marchioness  of  Mantua,  a  wondrous  fair  lady.  Then 
he  made  the  princes  and  lords  who  were  there  dance,  not 
even  excepting  the  cardinals  of  Narbonne  and  St.  Sevcrino, 
and  some  others,  who  acquitted  themselves  as  well  as  they 
could."  ''  It  was  impossible  to  be  better  entertained  than 
they  were,  with  dishes  of  the  first  and  second  course,  with 
farces,  plays,  and  other  pastimes T 

Some  time  elapsed,  after  the  return  of  Louis  XII.  to  his 
own  kingdom,  before  events  had  sufficiently  ripened  to 
bring  about  those  results,  to  which,  it  is  highly  probable,  the 
conferences  between  himself  and  Ferdinand,  at  Savona,  were 
directed.  In  October,  1508,  the  plenipotentiaries  of  Maxi- 
milian, of  Louis,  of  the  Pope,  and  of  the  King  of  Spain, 
met  in  the  city  of  Cambray,  where  they  concluded  a  ti-eaty 
for  the  overthrow  and  disniembernient  of  Venice,  that 
gT*eat,  proud  and  mercenary  republic !    She  had  lived  some- 


THE    VENETIAN    REPUBLIC.  137 

what  at  the  expense  of  all  the  neighboring  states  and  cities, 
and  had  made  her  harvest  out  of  their  misfortunes.  Her 
advantages  of  situation,  the  prudence  of  her  councils,  the 
selfishness  of  her  cares,  her  enterprise  and  military  spirit, 
had  all  combined  to  sustain  her  triumphantly  and  prosper- 
ously, while  the  neighboring  states  of  Italy  were  convulsed 
by  internal  strifes,  and  torn  by  the  army  of  the  invader. 
Her  part  had  always  been  to  act  on  the  offensive.  The 
wealth  of  other  states  had  maintained  her  armies ;  and  even 
for  her  very  conquests  she  had  exacted  compensation  fi'ora 
her  allies.  At  peace  with  all  the  neighboring  states,  and  at 
the  height  of  her  prosperity,  she  sat  unconscious,  on  the 
edge  of  the  volcano,  whose  teiTible  fires  were  silently  boil- 
ing beneath.  She  had  offended,  in  turn,  all  the  powers 
whose  representatives  at  Cambray  had  determined  upon 
her  destruction ;  or  from  her  pride,  position  and  power, 
she  was  likely  to  offend  them.  Pretexts  are  easily  found  to 
justify  a  war  upon  which  princes  find  it  their  policy  to 
enter;  and  Louis  XII.  promptly  began  his  preparations  for 
invading  the  territories  of  his  recent  allies.  By  the  terms 
of  the  treaty  he  was  pledged  to  begin  the  war  in  person, 
on  the  1st  of  April,  1509.  The  Pope  and  the  King  of  Ar- 
ragon  were  to  take  the  field  at  the  same  time,  and  forty 
days  were  allowed  the  emperor.  Louis  proceeded  in  good 
faith,  and  with  zeal,  upon  his  task.  In  making  his  levies 
he  determined  to  effect  an  improvement  in  their  character, 
which  his  previous  experience  had  shown  him  was  necessa- 
ry. The  Swiss  mercenaries  were  not  to  be  trusted.  Clam- 
orous always  for  their  pay,  faithless  themselves,  they  yielded 
no  faith  to  the  promises  of  an  employer ;  and  they  too  fre- 
quently seized  upon  the  moment  of  necessity  and  danger  to 
urge  the  most  rapacious  claims  and  exactions.  In  hiring 
still  a  body  of  six  thousand  of  this  people,  the  French  mon- 
arch was  resolved  to  resuscitate  the  native  infantry.  The 
jealous  fears  of  Louis  XL  had  forborne  to  train  the 
French  peasantry  to  arms.     A  national  militia  was  a  terror 


138  FRENCH    INFANTRY. 

to  despotism.  Hitherto,  the  armies  of  France,  for  several 
reigns,  were  composed  of  gentlemen,  foiming  a  large  body 
of  cavalry  ;  w^hile  the  infantry  consisted  of  foreign  mercena- 
ries, with  a  small  sprinkling  of  Gascons.  Such  an  army, 
good  always  at  the  commencement  of  an  invasion,  is  apt  to 
become  unserviceable  as  it  continues.  Cavalry  is  easily 
disorganized.  Its  supplies  are  drawn  from  large  tracts  of 
country,  over  which,  in  proportion  as  it  scatters  itself,  it 
becomes  enfeebled — and  once  unhorsed,  the  cavalier  is  of 
little  use.  At  such  a  juncture,  if  the  infantry  prove  unfaith- 
ful, the  army  is  sacrificed.  The  true  remedy  was  in  the 
scheme  that  Louis  proposed.  He  levied  an  infantry  force 
of  fourteen  thousand  men,  and  to  make  it  equally  popular 
and  efficient,  he  persuaded  Bayard,  Molard,  Cabannes,  and 
other  gallant  cavaliers,  to  command  these  new  brigades, 
and  to  fight  on  foot.  To  this  requisition  it  was  not  easy  to 
persuade  the  French  gentlemen.  It  required  all  the  king's 
influence  to  make  them  submit  to  a  disposition  of  their 
persons  which  they  looked  upon  as  degrading.  Bayard 
alone  offered  no  objections.  To  him,  and  a  few  others,  the 
French  are  indebted  for  the  first  formation  of  a  national 
infantry.  At  the  first  summons  for  the  new  levies  the  king 
sent  for  our  hero,  and  declared  his  wishes,  and  the  motives 
by  which  he  was  governed. 

"I  give  you,"  said  the  king,  "  the  company  of  Captain 
Chabilart.  Your  lieutenant,  Pierrepoint,  shall  lead  your 
gens  d'arms." 

"  As  you  please,  sire ;  but  what  number  of  foot  will  you 
give  me  to  conduct  ]" 

*'  A  thousand,"  was  the  answer ;  "  no  man  hath  more." 

**  Sire,"  replied  the  good  knight,  "  even  these  are  quite 
too  many  for  me.  Five  hundred  will  suffice.  I  swear  to 
you,  sire,  on  my  honor,  that  these  shall  do  you  good  service. 
Metliinks  even  these  are  a  heavy  charge  for  one  who  should 
do  his  duty." 

There  spoke  the  partisan  warrior.     The  genius  of  Bay- 


THE    SWISS    INFANTRY.  139 

ard  was  evidently  of  this  class.  A  small,  compact  body, 
which  he  could  keep  always  on  the  alert,  and  fly  with, 
hither  or  thither,  at  a  moment's  warning,  sufficed  for  him, 
and  suited  his  peculiar  talent  best.  The  command  of  an 
army  would  only  have  encumbered  him — would  have  fet- 
tered the  promptness  and  rapidity  of  his  movements,  and 
delayed  those  peculiar  enterprises,  in  which  he  took  such 
delight,  until  the  happy  moment  had  passed  in  which  they 
might  have  been  successful.  No  doubt,  to  descend  from 
the  vocation  of  the  man-at-arms  to  that  of  the  foot  soldier, 
was,  in  itself,  a  change  of  duty  which,  without  regarding 
the  supposed  humiliations  of  the  change,  was  somewhat 
inconsistent  with  the  exercise  of  his  peculiar  talent.  His 
whole  passion  was  in  the  service  to  which  his  youth  was 
trained.  That  he  might  succeed  as  well  in  another  was 
scarcely  possible.  But  he  offered  no  objections,  and  the 
king  was  satisfied. 

"  Away,"  said  he  to  Dauphiny,  "  and  be  in  my  duchy 
of  Milan  by  the  end  of  March." 

The  time  of  Bayard,  from  this  moment,  was  actively 
employed.  To  him  in  particular  was  the  French  monarch 
indebted  for  the  first  organization  of  his  infantry.  The 
model  was  derived  from  the  Swiss.  To  them,  in  part,  was 
due  the  overthrow  of  the  old  systems  which  chivalry  had 
engendered.  They  showed  the  ability  of  a  close-wedged 
body  of  foot-soldiers,  bristling  with  pikes  on  every  side,  to 
withstand  the  most  accomplished  knighthood  in  the  world. 
Their  discipline  was  due  to  their  organization.  It  was 
good  in  the  day  of  battle,  and  the  Swiss  were  mostly  faith- 
ful to  each  other.  The  timid  soldier  was  always  sure  of  a 
brother  at  his  back  and  elbow.  Their  armor  was  gener- 
ally simple.  It  consisted  of  casque  and  breast-plate ;  the 
latter  as  frequently  made  out  of  the  skin  of  a  wild  beast  as 
of  metal.  They  carried,  for  weapons,  a  halbert  (which, 
when  not  in  use,  swung  at  the  shoulder),  a  sword,  and  a 
pike  eighteen  feet  long.     Their   example,   strength,  sue- 


140  WAR    WITH    VENICE. 

cesses — all  so  frequently  shown  as  to  make  them  the  gi'eat 
fighting  nation  of  Europe,  after  their  overthrow  of  Charles 
the  Bold,  and  his  chivalry — originated  the  regular  system 
of  infantry  in  Europe,  began  under  the  auspices  of  Louis 
XII.,  by  such  captains  as  Bayard.  By  the  end  of  March, 
the  French  had  about  twenty-five  thousand  men  in  Italy, 
of  whom  more  than  half  were  foot-soldiers. 

In  sight  of  these  preparations,  the  Venetians,  on  their 
side,  were  far  fi-om  idle.  With  the  first  signs  of  danger 
they  prepared  for  a  vigorous  defence.  Their  efforts  to  ob- 
tain a  foreign  alliance  were  unsuccessful.  They  applied 
to  the  Pope,  to  the  King  of  England,  and  to  Bajazet,  the 
Turkish  emperor.  The  republic  was  compelled  to  stand 
alone  against  an  alliance  more  powerful  than  had  been 
known  in  Europe  since  the  Crusades.  But,  with  vast  re- 
sources of  wealth  and  intelligence,  they  had  a  spirit  not 
easily  subdued  or  broken,  and  their  generals  were  soon 
enabled  to  take  the  field  with  an  army  of  forty  thousand 
men.  Their  chief  captains  were  Nicolo  Orsino,  count  of 
Pitigliano,  and  Bartolomeo  d'Alviano  ;  both  of  them  men  of 
ability  and  bravery.  Of  the  latter  we  have  already  seen 
something  in  the  famous  battle  of  the  Garigliano,  when  the 
French  were  defeated,  and  where  he  was  second  in  com- 
mand under  the  famous  Gonsalvo.  These  generals  differed 
in  respect  to  their  modes  of  managing  the  war.  The  senate 
heard  them  both,  and  took  the  counsel  of  neither  entirely. 
Preparing  for  the  defence  of  their  strong  cities,  their  armies 
were  not  suffered  to  emerge  beyond  the  Adda.  Scarcely 
had  they  taken  the  field,  when  the  storm  of  war  burst  upon 
the  devoted  ten-itories  of  Venice,  from  the  simultaneous 
advance  of  all  the  allies.  The  Duke  of  Urbino,  leading  the 
armies  of  the  Pope — who  was  also  firing  off"  much  holy  ord- 
nance, in  the  shape  of  ban  and  interdict,  against  his  ene- 
mies— passing  through  the  territories  of  Faenza,  stoiTned 
the  town  of  Birsinghalla,  where  he  committed  the  greatest 
enormities.     The  Marquis  of  Mantua  assailed  the  district 


BATTLE    OF    AGNADELLO.  141 

of  Verona,  where  he  was  vigorously  opposed  by  d'Alviano; 
while  the  French,  with  Louis  at  their  head,,  crossed  the 
Adda  at  Cassano,  and  captured  the  towns  of  Trevigli,  Ri- 
volto,  and  other  places — all  of  which  were  sacked.  Retir- 
ing before  the  superior  forces  of  Count  Pitigliano,  they 
recrossed  the  river,  having  first  garrisoned  the  fortress  of 
Trevigli.  The  count,  bombarding  this  place  with  heavy 
artillery,  caused  its  sun-ender  after  an  obstinate  defence ; 
but  his  very  success  was  hurtful  to  his  objects,  since  the 
excesses  of  his  soldiery,  unrestrained,  led  to  the  destruction 
of  the  town  by  fire  ;  and  their  own  demoralization  rapidly 
ensued  upon  their  excesses.  These  little  disasters  brought 
Louis  back  to  the  scene  of  action ;  and,  crossing  the  Adda 
again  at  Cassano,  he  was  soon  confronted  with  the  whole 
Venetian  army  in  the  district  of  Ghiaradadda.  We  have 
scarcely  thought  it  necessary  to  say  that  in  all  the  several 
conflicts  at  which  we  have  glimpsed,  the  "  Good  Knight" 
continued  to  distinguish  himself  with  his  usual  gallantly. 

Louis  for  some  time  vainly  endeavored  to  bring  the  Ve- 
netians to  a  general  action.  They  were  restrained  by  the 
commands  of  the  senate,  and  by  the  prudence  of  Count 
Pitigliano.  But  the  impetuosity  of  Count  d'Alviano  favor- 
ed the  wishes  of  the  French,  and  the  engagement  which 
Louis  sought,  and  which  it  was  the  Venetian  policy  to  avoid, 
became  inevitable.  The  van  of  the  French  army  was  led 
by  the  Marshal  Trivulzio,  the  centre  by  the  king  in  per- 
son, and  the  rear  by  the  Lord  de  la  Palisse,  with  whom 
was  Bayard.  D'Alviano  led  the  Venetian  attack;  the  Count 
di  Pitigliano,  with  the  cavalry,  held  the  centre ;  while  the 
rear  guard  was  entnisted  to  Antonio  de  Pii,  with  the  Vene- 
tian commissaries.  The  action  took  place  on  the  14th  of 
May^  1509,  at  or  near  a  little  village  called  Agnadello. 
The  onset  of  the  Venetians  was  most  brilliantly  made,  and 
for  a  time  the  issue  was  doubtful.  At  this  crisis  the 
French  nobility  would  have  had  their  king  retire  fi'om  the 
danger ;  but  he  replied  boldly,  "  I  fear  nothing,  and  why 


142        BAYARD  DETERMINES  THE  BATTLE. 

should  you  ]  He  who  fears,  let  him  get  behind  me."  See- 
ing the  troops  staggered  for  a  moment,  La  Tremouille  cried 
to  them,  "  Soldiers !  the  king's  eye  is  upon  you."  The 
words  filled  them  with  heroic  ardor.  Again  the  battle 
closed  with  renewed  fury,  but  the  event  still  remained  in- 
decisive. Then  it  was  that  Bayard,  with  a  part  of  the  rear 
guard,  made  a  bold  movement  which  determined  the  fate 
of  the  day.  Plunging  through  a  morass  which  was  deem- 
ed impracticable,  he  made  his  way,  breast  deep,  through 
mud  and  water.  He  came  unexpectedly  upon  the  Venetian 
infantry  and  put  them  to  the  route.  This  body  of  troops 
was  commanded  by  d'Alviano.  He  himself,  covered  with 
wounds,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  rear  guard,  while  the 
Count  di  Pitigliano,  beholding  the  defeat  of  the  infantiy, 
offered  no  farther  provocation  to  his  fortune.  He  assured 
himself  of  safety  by  flight,  leaving  nearly  ten  thousand  men 
upon  the  field,  the  rich  harvest  made  by  havoc  in  a  short 
conflict  of  little  more  than  three  hours.  The  French,  who 
suffered  but  little  compared  with  their  enemies,  remained 
in  full  possession  of  the  field,  with  all  the  artillery,  standards, 
and  ammunition  of  the  vanquished. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  progress  of  the  French,  after  this  decisive  battle, 
was  simply  one  of  triumph.  The  ten'or  of  their  arms  facil- 
itated their  conquests.  The  districts  of  Ghiaradadda  and 
Caravaggio,  the  cities  of  Cremona,  Bergamo,  Brescia,  and 
Crema,  were  carried,  some  of  them  by  a  glance,  while  oth- 
ers, such  as  the  castles  of  Caravaggio  and  Peschiera,  held 
out  bravely  till  taken  by  assault  and  storm.  Great  cruel- 
ties, on  the  part  of  the  French,  stained  these  victories. 
Louis  is  said  to  have  forgotten,  in  this  terrible  progress,  his 
own  maxims  of  clemency.  It  is  probable  that  he  knew  not 
all  that  was  done  by  a  wild  soldiery,  newly  raised,  many 
of  whom  were  foreigners,  in  a  foreign  country,  and  who, 
no  doubt,  simply  retorted  the  brutalities  and  cruelties  of 
their  enemies.  These  events  were  all  accomplished  in  the 
space  of  a  week.  The  remains  of  the  Venetian  army,  mean- 
while, fled  toward  Trevisano  and  Friuli,  apprehensive  mo- 
mentarily of  a  pursuit  which  the  conqueror  did  not  contem- 
plate. Satisfied  with  what  he  had  done,  Louis  retired  upon 
the  city  of  Milan,  and  soon  afterward  to  his  French  do- 
minions. 

Such  terrible  reverses  of  fortune  struck  the  Venetian  sen- 
ate with  unwonted  terror.  Despairing  of  maintaining  them- 
selves by  arms,  they  had  recourse  to  policy,  and  now  sought 
to  mollify  the  anger  or  gratify  the  ambition  of  their  many 
adversaries.  To  the  pope,  Julius  II.,  they  offered  to  sur- 
render their  possessions  in  Romagna;  to  Ferdinand  of 
Spain,  their  cities  on  the  Neapolitan  coast ;  to  Maximilian, 
the  cities  of  Verona  and  Vicenza;  and,  if  they  tendered 
nothing  to  other  and  inferior  spoilers,  it  was  because,  in  the 


144  BAYARD    JOINS    THE    EMPEROR. 

general  spoliation,  the  latter  had  contrived  to  help  them- 
selves. But  their  proposals  vvrere  not  treated  with  indul- 
gence. For  the  present,  neither  the  pope  nor  the  emperor 
gave  any  heed  to  the  supplications  of  the  half-subdued 
seignory.  Stung  with  resentment  and  sustained  by  pride, 
the  first  feeling  of  defeat  and  danger  having  subsided,  the 
Venetians  gathered  courage  and  began  to  recruit  their 
army.  They  soon  worsted  the  emperor  in  several  small 
engagements,  and  at  length  succeeded,  by  treachery  and 
force,  in  rescuing  from  his  possession  the  city  of  Padua, 
which  he  had  garrisoned  with  an  inadequate  body  of  eight 
hundred  German  lansquenets.  These  people  fought  brave- 
ly, but  in  vain.  They  were  all  put  to  the  sword,  but  sold 
their  lives  dearly,  for  they  slew  nearly  twice  the  number  of 
their  enemies.  The  place  was  soon  fortified  strongly  by 
Count  Pitigliano,  who  took  charge  of  its  defences  in  per- 
son. 

The  loss  of  this  place  threw  the  emperor  into  a  fury, 
and  he  despatched  letters  to  Louis  at  Milan  to  lend  him 
five  hundred  horse,  for  a  few  months,  to  assist  him  in  re- 
covering what  was  lost.  The  prayer  was  complied  wdth. 
The  detachment  was  commanded  by  the  Lord  de  la 
Palisse,  and  Bayard  went  with  it  as  a  volunteer,  having 
under  him  thirty  valiant  knights,  the  choicest  of  the  army, 
each  of  whom,  according  to  the  "  Loyal  Servant,"  de- 
served to  be  a  captain  over  an  hundred.  He  was  once 
more  in  his  element — on  horseback,  a  knight  seeking 
adventures.  He  was  followed  by  two  hundred  more 
— gentlemen  volunteers — in  other  words,  knights — who 
sought  for  honor  in  the  paths  of  peril.  "  There  was  the 
Baron  of  Beam,  who  commanded  part  of  the  company  of 
the  Duke  de  Nemours  ;  and  the  Baron  de  Conti,  who  led 
three  hundred  horse ;  and  the  Lord  Theode  de  Trivulzio, 
and  the  Lord  Jules  de  St.  Severin,  the  Lord  of  Humber- 
court,  Captain  de  la  Clayette,  the  Lord  de  la  Crote,  lieu- 
tenant  to    the   Marquis   of   Monferrat ;    and    our    *  Good 


SIEGE    OF    PADUA.  145 

Knight.' Among  others,  there  went  the  Lord  of 

Bussy's  eldest  son,  cousin-geraian  to  the  Grand  Master 
Chaumont,  who  gave  him  twenty  of  his  horse ;  and  two 
gallant  gentlemen,  the  one  a  native  of  Bretagne  and  a  very 
famous  knight,  named  the  Lord  of  Bonnet ;  the  other,  the 
Lord  of  Mypont,  of  the  duchy  of  Burgundy:  both  of 
whom  the  *  Good  Knight'  looked  upon  as  brothers,  and 
honored  exceedingly,  well  knowing  how  gi'eat  was  the 
prowess  which  they  bore  within  them.  And  now  the  gen- 
tle Lord  de  la  Palisse,  having  made  the  needful  prepara- 
tions, began  to  march  with  these  noble  companions  in  the 
direction  of  Peschiera." 

Having  taken  Padua,  the  Venetians  soon  conquered 
Vicenza,  which  was  a  place  of  little  strength.  They  had 
already  aiTayed  themselves  before  Verona,  which  would 
also  have  fallen  into  their  hands,  but  for  the  force  under 
La  Palisse.  The  appearance  of  Bayard,  on  this  occasion, 
by  whom  the  van  was  led,  drove  the  Venetians  back  upon 
Vicenza.  The  French  reached  Verona  in  time  to  relieve 
the  Bishop  of  Trent,  who  held  the  place  for  the  emperor, 
from  a  tenible  fright.  From  Verona  they  marched  upon 
Vicenza,  from  whence  the  Venetians  fled  at  their  ap- 
proach. Here  they  were  joined  by  the  Prince  of  Anhalt 
with  six  thousand  lansquenets.  The  emperor  next  made 
his  appearance  after  a  tedious  delay,  which  had  nearly 
exhausted  the  patience  of  the  Frenchmen ;  and  the  army 
of  Maximilian  proceeded,  with  some  delay,  to  the  invest- 
ment of  Padua.  "  The  emperor,"  says  the  "  Loyal  Servant," 
**  made  the  French  wait  for  him  a  long  time,  which  they 
found  exceedingly  irksome ;  but  when  he  did  make  his 
appearance  it  was  after  an  imperial  manner.  Had  his 
forces  done  their  part,  they  might  have  answered  for  the 
conquest  of  the  world."  Our  naive  chronicler  proceeds  to 
a  description  of  the  train  of  artillery  brought  by  the  em- 
peror, something  of  which  may  be  suggestive  of  novelty  in 
our  own  time.     "  He  had  six  hundred  pieces  of  ordnance 


146  ANCIENT    CANNON. 

on  wheels,  the  least  whereof  was  a  falcon,*  and  six  large 
brass  bombards,!  which  were  not  capable  of  being  drawn 
on  carriages,  but  were  conveyed  along,  each  on  a  strong 
cart  and  loaded  with  engines.  When  these  great  guns 
were  to  be  employed  for  the  battery,  they  were  laid  upon 
the  earth,  the  muzzle  of  the  piece  a  little  raised,  and  a 
thick  billet  of  wood  placed  beneath  it,  giving  it  the  proper 
elevation.  Behind  it,  as  a  protection  against  its  recoil,  a 
huge  barrier  was  erected.  These  great  cannon  were 
charged  with  balls  of  stone,  since  those  of  metal  were  not 
to  be  carried.  It  was  only  possible  to  play  them,  at  the 
utmost,  four  times  during  the  day.'' 

Maximilian  was  accompanied  by  at  least  one  hundred 
and  twenty  princes,  dukes,  counts  and  other  lords  of  Ger- 
many. He  had  with  him  about  on«  thousand  two  hundred 
hoi'se,  and  five  or  six  hundred  gens  d'arms  from  Hainault 
and  Burgundy.  The  German  infantry,  a  host  not  to  be 
counted,  were  estimated  at  fifty  thousand.  Nor  was  this 
all.  The  Cardinal  of  Ferrara  brought  twelve  pieces  of  ar- 
tillery, five  hundred  horse  and  three  thousand  foot.  The 
Cardinal  of  Mantua  brought  as  many  more.  The  whole, 
monstrous  rather  than  mighty,  army  of  the  emperor  was 
at  least  one  hundred  thousand  men.  The  French  subsidy 
might  have  been  dispensed  with.  With  such  a  force  at 
command,  it  seems  discreditable  to  have  solicited  it.  But 
Maximilian  had,  as  we  shall  see,  a  modest  distrust  of  his 
own  genius,  which  was  not  without  proper  justification. 
With  this   numerous  array  he   sat  down  before  Padua. 

*  The  falcon  was  a  small  piece  of  artillery,  such  as  might  be  used  from 
•walls  or  towers,  or  the  windows  of  a  dwelling.  In  the  time  of  Elizabeth, 
according  to  Meyrick,  it  carried  a  ball  of  a  pound  and  a  half  in  weight,  and 
measured  two  inches  in  the  bore. 

t  The  bombard  was  simply  a  great  gun,  as  the  name  seems  to  signify, 
whose  size  was  not  arbitrarily  determined — the  bigger,  if  manageable,  the 
better — such  a  gun  as  Captain  Stockton  prefers,  might  be  called  a  bombard. 
Bombarda— a  bombo  et  ardere,  so  named  because  it  vomits  or  throws  forth 
iron  balls  with  a  noise  and  flaming  fire — cum  somniter  et  flamma.  See 
Richardson's  Dictionary. 


THE    EMPEROR    MAXIMILIAN.  147 

"  Sat  down"  is  the  proper  phrase  in  this  instance,  for  the 
feeble  prince  under  whom  the  French  were  now  to  serve, 
was  not  the  person  for  any  bold  or  vigorous  achievement. 
The  Emperor  Maximilian  was  ambitious  without  genius, 
tenacious  without  iii-mness,  and  arrogant  without  pride. 
He  had  the  soul  of  a  shopkeeper,  rather  than  a  prince — 
was  mean,  mercenary  and  cowardly — audacious  when  the 
danger  was  remote,  and  impotent  when  it  approached  him. 
It  was  not  long  before  he  betrayed  himself,  in  all  his 
aspects,  to  the  French  chivalry  whom  he  had  summoned  to 
his  assistance.  He  loved  the  pomp  and  display  of  arms ; 
and,  in  his  camp,  with  a  hundred  thousand  men  of  war,  in 
the  presence  of  their  enemies,  he  got  up  betimes  of  a 
morning,  and  kept  them  parading  till  afteraoon  in  the 
month  of  August — "  by  no  means  refreshing,"  says  our 
chronicler,  "  to  troops  with  their  helmets  on."  His  mas- 
sive artilleiy  was  too  cumbrous  for  use,  and  the  approaches 
to  Padua  were  as  slow  as  if  to  a  funeral.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  subject  of  some  discussion,  whether  the  place  were  to  be 
attacked  at  all.  The  council  of  war  showed  great  diversity 
of  opinion.  The  lieutenant-general  of  the  emperor  was  a 
Greek  named  Constantine,  whom  the  French  suspected  of 
treachery,  and  whom  the  Lord  de  la  Palisse  wished  to  fight 
upon  this  issue  ;  but  the  Greek  could  never  be  persuaded  of 
the  propriety  of  complying  with  the  Frenchman's  wishes. 
He  opposed  all  action,  and  shared,  in  every  respect,  the 
timidity  of  his  employer.  But  it  was  agreed  in  council 
that  Padua  was  to  be  besieged;  as  how,  with  such  an  army, 
should  they  have  determined  otherwise.  It  was  aiTanged 
that  the  approaches  should  be  made  by  the  French  gen- 
d'arms  and  the  lansquenets  under  the  Prince  of  Anhalt. 
But  first,  a  little  town  named  Monselice,  having  a  strong 
castle,  some  six  miles  from  Padua,  was  to  be  taken.  There 
arrived  in  camp  about  this  time  a  young  Frenchman,  the 
Lord  of  Millaut,  a  son  of  the  Lord  d'Alegre,  with  a  thou- 
sand or  twelve  hundred  adventurers — the  veiy  men    for 


148  THE    DOGE    LOREDANO. 

active  exploits  and  guerilla  warfare.  It  will  scarcely  be 
believed  that  this  mighty  army  suffered  this  little  band  of 
adventurers  to  capture  town  and  castle  before  their  eyes — 
none  of  them  emulous  of  an  exploit  which  they  left  to 
strangers.  Monselice  taken  and  garrisoned,  the  emperor 
appeared  before  Padua. 

The  city  was  a  large  one  and  difficult  of  approach.  It 
was  defended  by  Count  Pitigliano  in  person,  with  a  force 
of  one  thousand  gend'arms,  twelve  thousand  foot,  and 
some  two  hundred  pieces  of  artillery.  A  canal  passes 
through  the  city  conducting  to  Venice,  which  was  distant 
only  eighteen  miles.  Leaguered  however  closely,  of  the 
use  of  this  canal  it  was  not  possible  to  deprive  the  garri- 
son. The  Venetians  were  in  excellent  spirits,  and  noways 
daunted  by  the  formidable  preparations  of  their  enemies. 
They  were  indefatigable  in  preparing  their  defences.  With 
a  courage  and  magnanimity  which  has  seldom  been  equal- 
led, the  Doge  Loredano  requested  that  the  senate  would 
permit  his  children  to  be  sent  and  shut  up  in  the  besieged 
city.  The  proposal  inspired  the  utmost  confidence,  and 
was  received  with  joy.  The  effect  was  farther  to  induce 
three  hundred  of  the  young  nobility  of  Venice  to  volunteer 
as  the  escort  and  companions  of  the  children  thus  destined 
by  their  parent  to  the  horrors  of  a  siege.  Something  of 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  Venetians,  as  well  as  their  patriotism, 
may  be  inferred  from  these  events. 

With  his  camp  pitched  before  the  city  of  Padua,  Maxi- 
milian called  his  captains  together,  those  of  the  French 
especially,  in  whom  he  had  great  confidence,  and  demand- 
ed their  opinions  as  to  the  mode  of  operations.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  conference  it  was  ordered  that  the  princi- 
pal camp,  occupied  by  the  emperor  in  person,  together  with 
that  of  the  French,  should  be  pitched  near  the  gate  leading 
out  to  Vicenza.  Another  of  the  gates  of  the  city  was  to 
be  confronted  by  the  Cardinal  of  Fcjrrara,  the  Burgundians 
and  Hainaulters,  with  some  ten  thousand  lansquenets.     A 


BAYARD  BEGINS  THE  ASSAULT.  149 

third  was  to  be  assailed  and  watched  by  the  Cardinal  of 
Mantua  and  the  six  thousand  lansquenets  under  the  Prince 
of  Anhalt.  These  two  divisions  were  to  derive  their  suc- 
cors from  the  main  camp  in  the  event  of  any  necessity. 
Minor  details  are  here  unnecessary,  The  gi-eat  extent  of 
the  city  and  its  admirable  defences  made  the  duties  of  the 
besiegers  equally  difficult  and  arduous,  and  rendered  their 
approaches  no  easy  matter. 

The  opening  of  the  tenible  game  was  allotted  to  Bay- 
ard. Ordered  to  make  his  approaches,  he  took  with  him 
his  own  company  and  those  of  the  young  Lord  de  Bussy 
and  of  the  captains  La  Clayette  and  La  Crete.  These 
officers  accompanied  him.  In  order  to  reach  the  gate  look- 
ing toward  Vicenza,  Bayard  found  it  necessary  to  advance 
upon  a  large  and  perfectly  straight  and  open  road,  upon 
which  were  four  strong  barriers  or  forts,  each  well  filled 
with  combatants.  The  sides  of  this  road  were  ditched, 
rendering  it  impossible  for  the  assailants  to  make  any  prog- 
ress toward  assault,  except  directly  in  the  face  of  their 
enemies.  The  road  itself,  being  commanded  by  the  city 
walls,  and  those  literally  sown  with  artillery,  the  advance 
of  the  French  was  necessarily  made,  even  upon  the  exte- 
nor  batteries,  in  the  teeth  of  the  most  formidable  dangers. 
Their  appearance  upon  the  gi'eat  road  was  accordingly 
followed  by  a  terrible  discharge  of  ordnance  from  the  city. 
But  this,  instead  of  discouraging  the  good  knight  and  his 
gallant  companions,  only  prompted  a  brisker  movement. 
Once  engaged  in  the  assault  upon  the  bamcade  they  seem 
to  have  been  out  of  the  sweep  of  the  city  artillery.  The 
first  bariicade  was  vigorously  assailed.  The  Venetians 
stood  the  contest  bravely  but  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
French  gens  d'arms  was  not  to  be  withstood. 

The  barriers  of  the  Venetians  did  not  long  oppose  their 
entrance ;  and,  after  a  vigorous  contest,  the  first  of  the  re- 
doubts was  carried.  The  second  offered  more  decided 
obstacles.     The  fighting  here  was  even  better  than  at  the 

N* 


150  THE    LAST    BARRIER.      ' 

first.  Here  Bayard  was  seconded  by  the  arrival  of  the 
young  Lord  of  Millaut,  with  a  hundred  and  twenty  peas- 
antry, trained  as  foot-soldiers,  who  did  famous  execution. 
The  contest  at  the  second  barrier  was  maintained  for  half 
an  hour.  It  was  then  earned ;  the  defenders  who  were  in 
it  were  driven  out,  and  so  hotly  pursued,  that  their  entrance 
to  the  third  barrier  was  in  company  with  their  enemies. 
From  this  they  rushed  headlong  to  the  fourth,  which  was 
held  by  twelve  hundred  men,  with  three  or  four  pieces 
of  artillery.  These  played  upon  the  approaching  French, 
but  without  doing  much  mischief  Bayard,  with  his 
eager  followers,  was  soon  beneath  the  bulwarks ;  and 
the  fight  was  now  confined  to  the  use  of  pikes  and  arque- 
busses.  This  last  barrier  was  well  defended.  It  was  but 
a  stone's  throw  from  the  city  walls,  and  this  imparted 
courage  to  the  Venetians.  The  force  within  was  consid- 
erable, and  its  exertions  were  well  directed.  Chafed  at 
the  length  of  the  struggle,  and  at  the  little  progress  which 
had  been  made  toward  a  victory.  Bayard  cried  to  his  im- 
mediate companions,  "  Comrades,  these  people  keep  us 
quite  too  long.  Let  us  dismount,  and  press  forward  to  the 
barricade."  Forty  of  them  obeyed  his  summons.  They 
dismounted,  raised  their  visors,  couched  their  lances,  and 
drove  straight  upon  the  barricade.  It  was  now  as  a  foot- 
soldier  that  our  knight  was  fighting.  The  lance  was  equiv- 
alent to  our  modern  musket  edged  with  bayonet.  Bayard 
found  the  Prince  of  Anh alt  at  his  side,  the  Lord  of  Millaut, 
Great  John  of  Picardy,  and  Captain  Mauleverer.  These 
were  all  choice  spirits.  A  common  impulse  carried  them 
forward.  They  were  men  to  be  relied  upon ;  and  the 
slaughter  was  immense,  which  followed  upon  their  desper- 
ate assault.  But  the  Venetians  were  so  near  the  city,  that 
they  were  continually  supplied  with  reinforcements.  Bay- 
ard, seoinfif  this,  encouraged  his  comj^anions  by  crying  out, 
"  They  will  keep  us  here  six  years,  with  their  new  succors, 
unless    our   attack   be   more   resolute,    and    all   together. 


BAYARD  LEAPS  THE  BARRIER.  151 

Now,  every  one  follow  me  !"  They  cheered,  and  the  cry 
was,  "  Lead  on!"  Then  said  Bayard,  "  Sound  ti-umpet!" 
And,  with  the  blast,  the  compact  body  of  chosen  captains, 
each  fit  to  lead  an  hundred  men,  dashed  into  the  Venetian 
an-ay.  The  port  of  Bayard,  as  he  rushed  against  the  ene- 
my's ranks,  is  described  by  the  old  chronicler  as  that  of  a 
she  lion  robbed  of  her  whelps.  "  On,  comrades,  they  are 
ours!"  he  ciied,  as  he  bounded  over  the  barricades.  He 
was  follow^ed  by  thirty  or  forty  more,  upon  whom  the 
whole  force  of  the  beleaguered  was  now  concentrated.  But 
their  followers  did  not  abandon  them  at  their  peril.  The 
trumpet  did  its  duty.  The  ciy  of  Bayard  was  heard  be- 
yond the  walls ;  and  when  his  form  disappeared  behind  the 
barricades,  his  troops  were  no  longer  to  be  kept  from  fol- 
lowing. ''France!"  and  "Empire!" — "France  and  Em- 
pire !" — sounded  wildly  and  courageously  from  the  equal 
throats  of  Gaul  and  German,  as  they  severally,  or  in  emu- 
lous squads,  leapt  over  the  walls  ;  and  a  few  moments  suf- 
ficed to  put  the  Venetians  to  the  rout  on  every  side.  The 
barriers  were  thus  won  at  noonday,  by  hard  fighting,  hand 
to  hand.  The  deeds  of  every  wan-ior  could  be  seen,  and 
this  wonderfully  stimulated  the  courage  of  the  ambitious 
soldier.  But  the  palm  was  borne  away  from  all  by  Bay- 
ard. He  led  the  assault,  and  was  the  first  everywhere  in 
the  front  of  danger.  If  his  reputation  was  great  before, 
this  close  and  constant  struggle,  before  the  barriers  of 
Padua,  contributed  greatly  to  increase  it.  But  these  were 
outer  barriers,  not  those  of  the  city  proper.  These  were 
only  set  to  baffle  the  regular  approaches  of  the  besiegers. 
Their  capture  simply  removed  certain  obstacles  to  the 
proper  commencement  of  the  leaguer. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  siege  of  Padua  now  began  in  right  good  earnest. 
Works  were  raised,  and  the  great  guns,  bombards,  and  fal- 
cons, were  brought  down  and  planted  within  speaking  dis- 
tance of  the  Venetians.  How  the  conversation  was  carri- 
ed on  between  the  parties  shall  be  the  subject  of  this  chap- 
ter. If  the  Germans  were  most  numerous,  the  Venetians 
were  better  counseled  and  defended ;  and  if  the  physique 
of  the  former  was  beyond  measure  superior  to  that  of  the 
latter,  there  was  something  in  the  supeiior  spirit  of  the  be- 
leaguered people  to  compensate  for  their  deficiencies  of  this 
description.  As  managed,  the  siege  was  a  slow  and  tedi- 
ous business,  which  it  required  no  great  deal  of  prophetic 
vision  to  see  must  end  in  defeat  at  last.  The  forces  of 
Maximilian  occupied  three  camps,  as  we  have  shown 
already  ;  and  these  camps,  such  were  their  numbers,  were 
spread  over  more  than  four  square  miles  of  land.  Some 
idea  of  the  productive  abundance  of  this  region  may  be 
gathered  from  the  fact  that,  during  the  siege,  which  lasted 
about  two  months,  the  foragers  never  had  occasion  to  go 
farther  than  six  miles  into  the  country  to  procure  ample 
supplies  of  corn,  hay,  oats,  meal,  poultry,  wine,  and  other 
necessaiies.  When,  finally,  the  siege  was  raised,  there 
were  destroyed,  of  surplus  provisions,  the  value  of  more 
than  one  hundred  thousand  ducats.  It  surely  was  not 
because  of  a  deficiency  of  food  that  Maximilian  failed 
to  conquer  Padua.  Let  us  look  to  other  causes  for  his 
failure. 

On  the  day  after  the  approaches  had  been  made,  the  ar- 
tillery of  Maximilian  opened  upon  the  city,  and  was  main- 


BOMBARDMENT    OF    PADUA.  153 

tained  for  eight  days  with  unvarying  constancy  and  regu- 
larity. Such  a  bombardment  had  not  been  witnessed  for  a 
thousand  years  before.  The  three  camps  of  the  emperor 
discharged  more  than  twenty  thousand  shot  in  this  space 
of  time,  and  were  answered  with  quite  as  many  from  the 
two  hundred  pieces  of  ordnance  which  guarded  the  walls 
of  Padua.  Count  Pitigliano  was  no  ways  sparing  of  his 
responses,  and  betrayed  a  stubborn  resolution  in  defence  of 
the  beleaguered  city,  to  which  it  finally  owed  its  safety. 
Still,  it  was  not  possible,  in  that  early  day,  in  the  con- 
struction of  fieldworks  against  artilleiy,  to  protect  his  walls 
thoroughly  against  the  monstrous  ordnance  which  the  em- 
peror had  brought  against  them.  At  the  end  of  the  eight 
days  of  bombardment,  three  breaches,  made  by  the  shot 
fi'om  the  several  camps  of  the  besiegers,  were  battered  into 
one.  The  passage,  thus  made,  was  sufficiently  ample  for 
the  entrance  of  the  assailants ;  but  the  providence  of  Count 
Pitigliano  had  taken  such  precautions  that  the  breach  avail- 
ed the  besiegers  nothing.  As  soon  as  he  discovered  the 
effect  of  the  enemy's  battery  upon  his  walls,  he  opened  a 
trench  in  the  rear  of  his  lines,  twenty  feet  in  depth  and 
nearly  as  many  in  width,  which  he  slightly  covered  with 
fagots  and  dry  wood,  and  strewed  with  gunpowder.  At 
every  hundred  paces  along  this  trench  he  threw  up  a  por- 
tion of  earth,  garnished  well  with  artillery,  by  which  it  was 
completely  swept.  Assuming  the  enemy  to  have  succeed- 
ed in  passing  this  trench,  an  esplanade  opened  before  them 
sufficiently  spacious  for  the  operations  of  the  whole  garri- 
son. Cavalry  and  infantry  were  ready  to  do  battle  upon 
its  margin,  while  behind  them  were  platforms  of  such  eleva- 
tion that  their  cannon  might  play  over  the  heads  of  the  gar- 
rison, and  upon  any  body  of  the  foe  who  should  prepare  to 
pass  the  trenches.  These,  also,  covered  the  several  breach- 
es which  had  been  made,  and  sei*ved  to  make  the  defences 
of  the  city  even  more  ample  than  before.  The  precautions 
taken  by  Count  Pitigliano  were  such  that,  against  the  will 


154  PROGRESS    OF    THE    SIEGE. 

of  the  beleaguered,  five  hundred  thousand  ti'oops  would 
have  found  it  scarce  possible  to  enter. 

The  besiegers,  by  means  of  spies,  reconnaissances,  and 
the  reports  of  prisoners,  were  soon  made  aware  of  the  im- 
potence of  their  performances.  Count  Pitigliano  himself 
was  at  some  pains  to  let  them  know  what  they  had  to  ap- 
prehend in  case  of  an  assault.  He  took  especial  pains  to 
convey  messages  to  the  French,  artfully  designed  to  soothe 
their  vanity  and  to  render  tliem  indifferent  to  the  progress 
of  the  emperor.  "  But  for  your  presence,"  was  his  mes- 
sage on  one  occasion,  "  I  should  sally  forth,  and  in  twenty- 
four  hours  compel  the  emperor  to  abandon  the  siege/' 
He  knew  Maximilian  better  than  the  French.  He  took 
care  to  remind  them  of  the  long  existing  friendship  and 
alliance  between  the  King  of  France  and  the  Venetian 
seignory,  and  intimated  that  they  must  soon  resume  their 
former  ties  of  amity.  These  communications  had  their 
object,  but  do  not  appear  to  have  produced  any  effect 
upon  the  French  in  the  army  of  the  emperor.  They  were 
in  his  service  at  the  instance  of  their  own  sovereign,  and 
were  bound  to  yield  obedience  to  his  commands.  But  they 
chafed  very  much  at  the  authority  of  one  of  his  creatures. 
This  was  that  Lord  Constantino,  a  Greek,  of  whose  sup- 
posed treachery  we  have  already  spoken.  The  instance 
which  more  particularly  provoked  the  suspicions  and  an- 
ger of  the  French  originated  in  the  detection  of  the  mal- 
pi'actice  of  a  cannoneer.  This  man,  it  was  discovered, 
instead  of  firing  into  the  city,  sent  his  bullets  against  one 
of  the  three  camps  of  Maximilian.  Detected  in  the  act, 
he  was  thrust  into  one  of  the  bombards,  and  shot  piece- 
meal among  the  Paduans,  whose  cause  he  had  sought  to 
serve  in  another  manner.  The  French  not  only  claimed  to 
have  traced  his  treachery  to  Constantino,  but  it  was  said 
that  the  latter  daily  conveyed  to  Count  Pitigliano  a  notice 
of  all  that  was  designed  against  him.  It  is  probable  that 
the  unlucky  cannoneer  invented  the  story  to  divert  from 


LUCIO    MALVEZZO.  155 

himself  the  wrath  of  those  who  were  about  to  subject  him 
to  the  horrible  death  which  he  suffered.  Whether  true  or 
not,  the  Greek  escaped  detection  if  not  suspicion.  Cha- 
bannes,  the  Lord  de  la  Palisse,  pronounced  him  a  base  vil- 
lain to  his  face,  and  challenged  him  to  fight ;  but  the  Greek, 
answering  nothing  to  the  purpose,  refeiTed  the  whole  mat- 
ter to  the  emperor,  in  whose  infatuation  he  well  knew  he 
should  always  find  impunity. 

But  these  developments  brought  the  besiegers  no  nigher 
to  their  object.  The  artilleiy  had  done  its  work.  The 
breaches  were  made  wide — great  avenues  of  ruin — more 
than  sufficient  to  admit  of  a  thousand  men  abreast.  The 
question  then  followed,  shall  the  assault  be  made,  and 
when  1  While  the  emperor  debates  this  question  with  his 
council,  we  will  take  up  some  of  our  fallen  threads,  and 
proceed  to  show  how  our  hero  employed  himself  with  his 
gens  d'anns  during  the  time  when  the  only  warfare  upon 
Padua  was  made  through  the  mouths  of  the  bombards. 

The  Venetians,  as  we  have  more  than  once  intimated, 
were  by  no  means  wanting  in  the  pride  and  courage 
which  make  a  daring  soldiery.  They  had  many  young 
captains  among  them  of  great  enterprise  and  spirit,  who 
were  emulous  of  a  reputation  such  as  that  which  had 
been  accorded  to  the  cavaliers  of  France.  The  knights  of 
the  tovni  made  frequent  sallies,  and  the  encounter,  hand 
to  hand,  brought  liberal  ransoms  to  the  pockets  of  the 
French  chivalry.  But  they  had  a  bold  and  well-trained 
garrison  at  Treviso,  some  twenty-five  miles  from  Padua, 
wherein  was  one  Lucio  Malvezzo,  as  enterprising  a  war- 
rior as  the  times  could  show.  This  bold  gallant,  with  no 
more  grateful  music  than  sword  and  battle-axe,  beat  up  the 
camp  of  Maximilian  some  twice  or  thrice  a  week.  He 
gave  no  warning  by  trumpet,  but  dashed  upon  his  prey  at 
a  single  swoop.  If  his  quarry  was  a  good  one,  he  made 
the  most  of  it,  for  he  was  not  the  person  to  spare  himself 
when  there  was  any  good  result  to  come  of  his  peril ;  but 


156  bayard's  stratagem. 

if  the  game  was  against  him,  he  wormed  himself  with 
gi'eat  discretion  out  of  the  snare,  and  contrived,  in  the 
alarm  which  he  gave  his  enemy,  to  get  quietly  beyond  his 
reach.  Messire  Lucio  Malvezzo  grew  to  be  famous  after 
this  fashion,  and  was  greatly  talked  about,  as  well  by  ene- 
mies as  friends.  To  prepare  for  him,  was  probably  to 
lose  time  from  other  objects,  since  nobody  could  con- 
jecture at  what  moment  he  would  make  his  appearance. 
Nevertheless,  the  annoyance  of  Bayard  at  these  experi- 
ments of  the  Venetian,  upon  the  repose  and  patience  of 
his  comrades,  determined  him  to  try  if  something  might 
not  be  done  to  fetter  the  flight  of  this  gay  falcon.  So, 
putting  his  spies  on  the  qui  vive — and  he  always  had  spies 
in  pay,  to  whom  he  was  so  liberal  that  they  would  have 
sooner  died  than  deceived  him — he  one  day  procured 
certain  intelligence  upon  which  he  prepared  to  act.  He 
had  communicated  to  none,  hitherto,  his  intentions  ;  well 
knowing,  that  secrets  of  this  sort,  if  in  the  keeping  of  more 
than  one,  are  out  of  all  keeping.  One  night  he  strolled 
quietly  to  the  lodgings  of  Captain  La  Clayette  and  the 
Lord  of  Crete,  both  men  of  conduct  and  spirit,  and  said  to 
them: — "This  Captain  Malvezzo  gives  us  much  disturb- 
ance. He  routs  us  up  with  the  dawn,  when  it  were  far 
pleasanter,  after  the  day's  fatigue,  to  sleep  a  little.  We 
hear,  indeed,  of  nobody  but  him.  Now,  I  am  by  no 
means  jealous  of  his  exploits,  but  it  grieves  me  that  he 
should  have  so  little  respect  for  us.  I  have  learned  some- 
thing in  regard  to  his  movements,  and  if  it  so  pleases 
you,  we  shall  get  something  of  a  fight  out  of  him.  It  is 
two  days  since  he  gave  us  the  last  alarm.  I  trust  that  we 
shall  meet  him  to-moiTow  morning.  What  say  you  ?" 
His  comrades  professing  their  readiness  to  join  in  the  ad- 
venture, he  continued  :  "  Then  let  each  of  you  arm  thirty 
of  your  bravest  gendarms  two  hours  after  midnight.  I  will 
bring  my  own  company,  and  bring  with  me  also  certain 
good  fellows.  Bonnet,  Mypont,  Cosscy,  Brezon,  and  others 


THE    AMBUSH.  167 

whom  you  know.  We  need  blow  no  trumpet ;  we  must 
make  no  noise ;  but,  quietly  taking  the  saddle,  we  will  be 
off.     Look  to  me  for  finding  you  an  excellent  guide." 

So  said,  so  done.  Between  the  hours  of  two  and  three, 
in  a  soft  September  morning,  the  party  was  all  in  readiness 
with  a  proper  guide.  This  man  was  put  in  front,  but 
given  in  charge  of  four  archers.  Bayard  gave  him  to  un- 
derstand that  if  he  proved  faithful  his  reward  should  be 
ample — if  false,  his  life  should  be  the  forfeit.  The  guide 
was  honest.  He  had  conducted  them  some  ten  miles  into 
the  country,  when  the  day  began  to  dawn.  They  had' 
reached  a  gi'eat  palace  which  its  owner  had  deserted.  The 
place  was  unoccupied.  It  was  environed  by  a  long  wall, 
and  offered  a  good  harborage. 

"  Here,"  said  the  guide,  "  if  you  conceal  yourselves, 
you  shall  have  the  opportunity  you  seek.  Should  cap- 
tain Lucio  Malvezzo  come  forth  from  Treviso  to-day, 
seeking  your  camp,  he  must,  of  necessity,  pass  this  place. 
Here  you  may  lurk  in  safety,  unseen,  yet  seeing  all  that 
passes." 

The  fellow  spoke  very  fairly,  and  his  counsel  pleased 
our  adventurers.  They  posted  themselves  accordingly  with- 
in the  abandoned  premises,  under  the  direction  of  Bayard. 
They  had  not  been  in  watching  more  than  two  hours  when 
a  distant  sound  was  heard  as  of  horses.  There  was  an  old 
archer  of  Bayard's  company,  named  Monart,  a  man  of  gi'eat 
experience,  whom  the  good  knight  instructed  to  climb  up 
into  a  dove-cot,  within  the  grounds,  from  whence  he  might 
note  the  face  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  archer  did 
as  he  was  commanded,  and  soon  reported  the  approach 
of  Messire  Lucio  Malvezzo,  still  at  some  distance,  accom- 
panied by  a  hundred  gend'arms,  armed  from  head  to 
heel,  and  followed  by  some  two  hundred  Albanians,  all 
well  mounted  and  effective  men,  under  the  command  of 
one  Captain  Scanderbeg,  who,  for  ought  we  know,  may 
have  been  a  son  or  grandson  of  the  famous  Piince  of  Alba- 

O 


158  MALVEZZO  IN  THE  SNARE. 

Ilia.*  This  force  was  rather  more  numerous  than  Bayard 
bargained  for,  but  in  such  cases  his  net  was  a  capacious 
one.  It  was  with  no  feeling  but  that  of  gratification  that 
he  saw  them  appear.  Keeping  his  own  people  snug,  he 
suffered  Malvezzo  and  Scanderbeg,  with  their  men,  to 
approach,  and  to  pass  them  undisturbed.  They  went  by, 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  edifice  in  which  the  French 
lay  hid.  When  they  had  fairly  passed,  and  Monart,  de- 
scending from  his  perch,  had  detailed  all  his  particulars. 
Bayard  put  his  men  in  readiness.  Each  good  knight 
drew  his  horse's  girth  and  prepared  himself.  Each  was  his 
own  groom,  for  Bayard  wished  not  to  buithen  himself  with 
unnecessary  followers,  who  were  only  apt  to  be  trouble- 
some and  in  harm's  way. 

"  And  now,"  said  Bayard  to  his  companions,  "  gentle- 
men, we  have  not  met  with  so  fortunate  a  chance  for  ten 
years.  True,  they  are  twice  our  number,  but  if  we  acquit 
ourselves  bravely  that  is  nothing.     Let  us  after  them  !" 

"Agreed,"  was  the  unanimous  response;  and  off  they 
darted  at  a  quick  trot  on  the  heels  of  their  enemies. 

The  chase  of  a  mile  brought  them  in  sight  of  their  game. 
Then  said  our  good  knight  to  the  trumpeter,  *'  sound, 
tmmpet,  sound !"  which  he  did  incontinently.  They 
were  on  a  fine  broad  road,  the  very  one  which  a  troop  of 
knights  would  prefer  upon  which  to  make  a  headlong 
charge.  The  blast  of  the  bugle  somewhat  astonished  the 
Venetian  captains,  swelling  as  it  did  behind  them.  They 
had  no  expectation  of  enemies  in  the  rear ;  nor,  indeed, 
until  the  French  were  nearly  upon  them,  did  they  suppose 
it  to  be  other  than  some  small  squadron  of  their  own  peo- 
ple. They  halted  just  long  enough  to  discover  v/ho  the 
strangers  were.  This  known,  the  effect  was  that  of  a 
surprise.     It  dismayed  them  somewhat  to  find  themselves 

*  George  Castriotto,  Scandcrbc^-,  or  Aloxander  Bey,  was  born  in  1404. 
The  date  of  the  events  before  us  is  1509.  The  name  Scanderbeg  is  simply 
Ef  compounding  of  the  two  words,  Ale.xander  Mey 


THE  CHARGE  OF  STEEDS.  159 

enclosed  by  their  enemies — on  one  hand  a  pursuing  caval- 
ry, on  the  other  the  vast  camps  of  the  emperor.  There  was 
no  alternative  but  to  face  the  immediate  assailant.  It  was 
some  comfort  to  see  that  these  were  not  numerous ;  and 
Messire  Lucio  Malvezzo,  always  fearless,  now  put  on  his 
bravest  aspect,  and  enjoined  his  men  to  do  their  devoir  gal- 
lantly. They  were  shown  that  their  only  hope  lay  in  their 
own  valor.  Escape  was  none.  They  must  vanquish  or 
be  vanquished.  But  few  words  were  necessary  for  this 
explanation.  Each  wanaor  beheld  the  necessity  for  him- 
self. Flight,  even  to  the  right  or  left,  was  cut  off.  The 
road  was  bordered  on  each  side  by  monstrous  ditches, 
beyond  the  leap  of  any  horseman.  Fortunately,  it  was  one 
of  sufficient  breadth  to  enable  the  gallant  knight  to  course 
famously.  A  fine  rider  might  achieve  wonders  on  so  excel- 
lant  a  track.  Fight  was  ine^'itable.  The  trumpets  on 
both  sides  began  to  blare,  and  when  the  foes  were  a  bow- 
shot asunder  they  began  to  rush  into  the  melee,  with  the 
mingling  war-cries  of  "France,"  and  "Empire,"  and  "San 
Marco  !"  Verily,  says  the  "  Loyal  Servant,"  who  him- 
self beheld  the  deeds  of  his  master,  the  good  knight — "ver- 
ily, it  was  a  joy  to  hear  them."  It  must  have  been.  At 
the  first  encounter  many  knights  went  dowTi  and  the  fight 
went  over  them.  Bonnet,  one  of  Bayard's  companions, 
was  the  first  to  send  his  lance  through  the  breast  of  an 
enemy.  The  shaft  showed  itself  on  the  other  side.  But 
this  was  not  the  only  gallant  stroke.  It  was  an  hour  for 
hard  blows  and  deadly  thrusts,  and  each  man  did  his  best. 
It  was  while  the  strife  was  liveliest  that  the  keen  eyes 
of  Bayard  saw  the  Albanians  suddenly  disappear  from  the 
high  road,  leaving  their  cavalry  to  carry  on  the  conflict. 
Oui"  hero  was  too  good  a  partisan  to  suiTer  this  movement 
to  escape  him.  Turning  to  La  Crete,  he  said — "  These 
people  would  take  us  in  the  rear.  See  to  it,  that  we  be  not 
surrounded,  and  the  day  is  ours."  A  word  was  sufficient 
for  La  Crete,  who,  detaching  certain  of  the  command,  put 


160  MALVEZZO    ESCAPES. 

himself  in  readiness,  and  when  the  Albanians  least  expected 
resistance,  gave  them  an  encounter  so  hot  and  heavy  as  to 
disperse  them  in  a  moment,  a  score  of  them  remaining  on 
the  ground,  while  the  rest  betook  themselves  to  unhesitating 
flight.  The  "  gentle"  captain  did  not  suffer  himself  to  lose 
time  in  pursuit,  but  returned  at  once  to  the  assistance 
of  Bayard.  But  the  work  was  finished  ere  he  reached  the 
ground.  The  Venetians  were  already  routed,  and  each 
gend'arm,  no  longer  thinking  of  blows,  was  busied  only  in 
securing  his  prisoner.  The  thought  now  was  of  the  ransom 
of  the  field — its  glory  was  already  secure.  Lucio  Malvez- 
zo,  after  making  gallant  fight  in  vain,  made  off  successfully. 
He  succeeded  in  baffling  pursuit  by  means  of  the  noble 
animal  he  rode.  Twenty  or  thirty  more  escaped  with  him, 
being  well  mounted,  and  fled  with  all  speed  to  Treviso. 
The  pursuit  was  feebly  urged.  The  French  were  encum- 
bered with  their  prisoners,  whose  numbers  were  greater 
than  their  own.  No  less  than  an  hundred  and  eighty  cap- 
tives rewarded  this  adventure,  whose  ransom  promised  to 
replenish  coffers  which  were  almost  as  soon  emptied  as 
filled.  These  captives,  disarmed  of  their  swords  and 
maces,  were  placed  in  the  midst  of  the  French,  and  in  this 
way  were  earned  safely  into  camp. 

Maximilian  was  ravished  at  the  sight.  The  intelligence 
of  the  adventure  soon  reached  him  from  a  dozen  quarters. 
He  sallied  out  to  enjoy  the  spectacle.  It  was  one  which 
he  had  not  often  witnessed.  Two  standards,  and  nearly 
two  hundred  prisoners,  won  by  a  less  number  of  lively 
Frenchmen.  He  was  exceedingly  gracious,  and  saluted  our 
good  knight  and  his  companions  in  a  fashion  less  imperial 
than  usual,  perhaps,  but  far  more  gracious.  His  com- 
mendations were  no  ways  stinted.  Each  captain  had  his 
share  of  praise.     To  Bayard  he  said  : 

"  Lord  of  Bayard,  my  brother,  King  Louis,  is  very  for- 
tunate in  having  such  a  captain  as  yourself.  I  would  give 
a  hundred  thousand  florins  a  vear  for  a  dozen  such." 


bayard's  fidelity.  161 

"  Sire,"  answered  Bayard,  "  it  is  your  pleasure  and  not 
my  deserts  that  move  you  to  this  praise.  For  your  com- 
mendations I  must  humbly  thank  you.  Thus  much  I  am 
able  to  say,  that  while  my  prince  is  your  ally,  you  will  find 
no  captain  more  faithful  than  myself." 

0* 


,i|  .  Ui^  U    f   VI  A^ 


CHAPTER  XV. 


This  adventure  contributed  gi'eatly  to  relieve  the  monot- 
ony of  the  camp,  and  w^as  particularly  interesting,  as  it  so 
strikingly  contrasted  with  the  slov\^  progress  of  the  main 
action.  Bayard,  of  course,  carried  away  the  chief  honor, 
though  his  admirers  are  careful  to  tell  us  that  he  himself 
ascribed  the  merit  mostly  to  his  two  companions,  "  for  a 
more  gracious  and  generous  knight  the  whole  world  could 
not  produce."  Bayard  was  not  one  of  those  persons  who, 
having  done  well,  cease  performance  and  rely  upon  the 
credit  of  past  achievements.  He  knew  well  that  repu- 
tation was  to  be  maintained  by  renewed  performances,  and 
that  the  only  way  to  keep  one's  honor  bright  was  to  refresh 
it  frequently  with  new  deeds  of  honor.  Once  in  the  saddle, 
and  with  lance  couched,  his  spirit  was  no  longer  satisfied 
to  rest,  and  a  few  days  after  the  excursion  against  Messire 
LucioMalvezzo,  he  prepared  for  a  second,  in  another  quar- 


ANOTHER    ADVENTURE.  163 

ter.  His  spies,  always  on  the  alert,  had  apprised  him  that 
the  Albanian  chief,  Scanderbeg,  with  his  squadron,  whom 
Captain  La  Crete  had  dispersed  in  the  late  affair,  had  re- 
tired into  the  Castle  of  Bassano,  whence,  in  company  with 
a  troop  of  crossbow-men,  commanded  by  Rinaldo  Conta- 
rini,  they  made  frequent  sallies  upon  the  small  parties,  for- 
agers, herdsmen,  lansquenets  and  othei-s,  as  they  went  to 
and  from  the  camp  of  the  Germans.  Operating  thus,  and 
with  some  judgment  and  spirit,  they  had,  in  the  course  of 
three  days  only,  defeated  several  parties  and  relieved  them 
of  four  or  five  hundred  head  of  cattle.  There  was  a  pass, 
close  by  the  foot  of  the  mountain  upon  which  th6  Castle 
of  Bassano  stood,  where,  it  was  shown  to  Bayard,  these 
excellent  captains  might  be  encountered  almost  any  pleas- 
ant morning  by  those  who  had  the  heart  to  seek  them. 
Bayard  had  reason  to  confide  in  this  report,  which  was 
confiraied  by  one  of  his  emissaries,  in  whose  fidelity  he 
could  trust.  Having  ascertained  that  the  number  of  Alba- 
nians and  archers  under  Scanderbeg  and  Contarini  were 
only  about  two  hundred,  he  determined  to  carry  the  ad- 
venture through  himself,  without  calling  for  the  help  of 
other  captains.  He  had  a  select  body  of  thirty  gend'arms, 
and  some  eight  or  ten  gentlemen,  who  had  volunteeied 
under  his  banner  for  the  good  will  they  bore  him,  and  in 
order  to  acquire  the  art  of  war  from  one  of  its  best  practi- 
cal teachers.  This  force  he  well  knew  was  not  of  a  kind 
to  be  baffled  easily — not  to  be  scattered  in  a  panic — but 
one  which  could  stand  a  mortal  buffeting  for  several  hours. 
To  these  only  he  revealed  his  purpose.  They  at  once  de- 
clared their  delight  in  being  made  partakers  in  the  adven- 
ture ;  and  he  counselled  them  how  and  when  to  put  them- 
selves in  readiness.  An  hour  before  daybreak,  one  fine 
Saturday  morning — our  chronicler  is  precise  in  particulars 
of  this  sort — in  the  month  of  September,  they  were  in  the 
the  saddle,  and  fifteen  miles  on  the  road  before  they  drew 
bridle.     Reaching  the  pass  which  they  were  to  occupy  in 


164  THE    aUEEN    OF    CYPRUS. 

ambush,  without  being  discovered,  they  put  themselves  in 
as  snug  a  harborage  as  possible,  within  cannon-shot  of  the 
castle  on  whose  inmates  they  designed  to  pounce.  Their 
patience  in  this  ambuscade  was  not  too  severely  tried. 
After  a  little  while  they  heard  the  trumpet  of  the  garrison 
sounding  to  horse,  at  which  each  trooper  pricked  his  ears 
with  exultation.  Bayard  then  consulted  with  his  guide  as 
to  which  road  the  enemy  would  probably  take.  The  an- 
swer was  that  it  mattered  nothing,  for,  whatever  might  be 
their,  object  or  destination,  they  must  still  pass  a  certain 
little  bridge,  a  mile  from  the  plac§  of  arabush,  which  a 
couple  of  men  might  keep  against  as  many  hundred.  This 
bridge  passed,  it  was  only  necessary  to  hold  it  with  a 
small  force,  so  that  their  return  might  be  prevented.  This 
done,  another  pass  enabled  Bayard  to  make  a  sudden  cir- 
cuit of  the  mountain,  so  that  the  Albanians  must  necessa- 
rily be  encountered  on  the  plain.  The  guide  designated 
the  place  more  particularly  as  between  the  spot  they  occu- 
pied and  the  palace  of  the  Queen  of  Cyprus.  This  Queen 
of  Cyprus,  by  the  way,  was  no  mock,  though  retaining  only 
the  title  of  a  queen.  She  was  a  Venetian  lady,  one  Car- 
lotta  Carnaro,  who  became  the  wife  of  James,  king  of 
Cyprus.  At  the  death  of  this  prince,  and  conformably  to 
his  will,  the  widow  succeeded  to  the  sovereignty  of  the 
island.  But  those  cunning  traders,  her  countrymen,  so 
managed  as  to  inveigle  her  out  of  her  little  empire,  which 
she  abdicated  in  their  favor.  In  return  for  this  civility 
and  crown  they  conferred  upon  her  the  vague  title  of 
Daughter  of  St.  Mark — no  doubt  to  the  equal  gratification 
of  the  lady  and  the  saint — and  gave  her  certain  estates  be- 
sides in  the  Trevisan.  Here,  eight  miles  from  Padua,  she 
built  a  palace — a  house  of  pleasure — which  the  Venetians 
calkid  t;lje  palace  of  the  jQueenof  Cyprus.  But  the  nymph 
not^^i^gei' *)ccupied  the  gardens,  and  the  palace,  abandoned 
at  the  approach  of  contending  armies,  no  longer  maintained 
the  seductions  which  might  have  beguiled  knighthood  from 


TH£    SKIRMISHERS.  165 

its  severer  duties.  Our  gend'arms  heard  of  the  Cyprian 
palace  without  forgetting  Scanderbeg  and  his  Albanians. 
"  Very  good,"  said  Bayard,  at  the  suggestions  of  the  spy, 
"  and  now,  gentlemen,  which  of  you  will  maintain  the 
bridge  ]" 

The  Lord  of  Bonnet  said,  "  My  horse  and  I,  with  a  few 
of  your  people,  will  guard  it  if  you  please  !" 

"  Be  it  so,"  answered  Bayard.  "  Take  with  you  Little 
John  de  la  Vergne,  and  half  a  dozen  gend'arms,  with  as 
many  archers.     These  will  probably  suffice." 

While  they  were  arranging  this  matter,  they  discerned  the 
Albanians  and  crossbow-men  descending  from  the  castle. 
They  went  forth  as  if  going  to  a  marriage  feast.  Their 
spoils  and  successes  during  the  three  preceding  days  had 
beguiled  them  into  a  forgetfulness  of  the  usual  caprices  of 
fortune ;  and  the  French  knights  as  they  looked  forth  and 
beheld  the  life  and  confidence  with  which  the  enemy 
emerged  fi'om  their  fastnesses,  thought,  with  a  giim  delight, 
of  the  fate  of  that  goodly  pitcher,  of  which  the  proverb  tells 
us,  that  was  carried  once  too  often  to  the  well.  They  wait- 
ed in  cool  decision,  and  a  patience  that  knew  how  to  confide 
in  their  leader,  until  the  Albanians  had  fairly  gone  by ;  then 
sending  Bonnet  with  his  squad  to  secure  the  bridge.  Bayard, 
with  the  rest,  under  the  guidance  of  the  spy,  set  forward 
by  the  shorter  pass.  In  less  than  an  hour  they  reached  the 
open  plain — so  open  and  so  level,  that,  from  the  position 
which  they  occupied,  a  man  on  horseback  might  be  seen 
some  six  miles  off.  They  were  seasonably  in  position. 
Their  enemies  were  soon  discovered,  at  long  culverin- 
shot,  on  the  road  to  Vicenza,  and  thinking  only  of  their 
spoils. 

"  Now !"  said  Bayard  to  the  Bastard  Du  Fay,  who  bore 
his  standard — '*  Now,  sir,  take  with  you  twenty  of  your 
archers,  and  go  skirmish  with  these  people.  Seeing  you 
so  few,  they  will  charge  upon  you  no  doubt.  At  this,  turn 
you  the  heads. of  your  horses,  as  though  you  were  afraid, 


166  SCANDERBEG  DEFEATHD. 

and  bring  them  hither.     I  shall  await  you  by  the  foot  of 
this  mountain,  and  you  shall  enjoy  brave  sport." 

Du  Fay  needed  no  clearer  instructions.  He  was  an  old 
soldier,  and  thoroughly  versed  in  all  the  little  strategics  of 
the  partisan.  Putting  spurs  to  his  charger's  flanks,  he  at 
once  led  off  his  archers,  and  before  long  brought  them  within 
the  vision  of  the  Albanians.  All  turned  out  as  Bayard  had 
anticipated.  Scanderbeg,  at  the  sight  of  the  white  crosses, 
the  badges  worn  by  the  Frenchmen,  soon  put  his  bands  in 
motion,  and  setting  fiercely  upon  the  archers,  made  the  air 
ring  with  the  cry  of  "  San  Marco  !"  Struck,  as  by  sudden 
terror,  Du  Fay  wheeled  incontinently  round,  and  made  with 
moderate  speed  for  the  mountain  where  the  good  knight  had 
planted  his  ambush.  But  the  keen  pursuit  of  Scanderbeg 
compelled  Du  Fay  to  exchange  his  easy  retreat  for  a  hurried 
flight.  The  standard-bearer  did  his  part  excellently  well, 
and  brought  the  easily-beguiled  Albanian  into  the  very 
jaws  of  the  lion.  Heated  and  scattered  by  the  chase,  the 
people  of  Scanderbeg,  in  the  moment  of  their  utmost  confi- 
dence and  triumph,  were  encounteied  by  a  fi'esh  and  pow- 
erful party.  Suddenly,  at  a  bound,  Bayard  and  his  men- 
at-arms  were  out  upon  him.  At  the  first  shock  thirty  of 
the  foe  were  tumbled  headlong  from  their  saddles,  and 
this  first  shock  decided  the  conflict.  The  Albanians  fought, 
and  fought  well,  all  the  circumstances  considered  ;  but  such 
a  blow  as  they  had  received  at  the  opening  of  the  conflict  was 
more  than  half  the  battle.  They  fought  vainly;  and,  after  a 
struggle  more  or  less  fiercely  disputed,  in  which  they  failed 
to  recover  that  delightful  state  of  assurance  with  which  they 
had  pursued  the  archers  of  Du  Fay,  they  themselves  turned 
in  flight,  at  a  great  gallop,  thinking  to  gain  their  fortress  of 
Bassano.  The  French  pursued  with  all  their  ardor,  but 
the  light-horse  of  the  Albanian  force  would  have  escaped 
the  more  heavily-mounted  troopei*s  of  the  French,  but  for 
the  precaution  which  had  left;  Bonnet  and  Mypont  in  pos- 
session of  the  bridge.     The  captains,  Scanderbeg  and  Con- 


GUY    GUIFFUAV,  167 

tarini,  found  a  new  enemy  in  waiting  where  they  least  ex- 
pected one.  They  must  now  either  fly  at  a  venture  across 
the  country  or  resume  the  fight.  But  the  hard  knocks 
which  they  had  ah-eady  received  determined  them  against 
the  latter  alternative,  and  the  pursuit  had  been  so  hotly 
urged  as  to  make  it  doubtful  whether  they  should  succeed 
by  flight.  But  the  attempt  was  made,  and  proved  unsuc- 
cessful. So  well  had  the  French  knights  scattered  them- 
selves over  the  plain,  that  all  the  avenues  were  guarded. 
The  result  gave  them  sixty  Albanians  and  thirty  crossbow- 
men  pnsoners.  Both  Scanderbeg  and  Contarini  were 
among  the  captives.  The  rest  of  the  force  escaped  to 
Treviso. 

In  the  course  of  this  combat,  one  of  those  exciting  little 
incidents  occun'ed,  by  which  we  have  a  whole  volume  in 
regard  to  the  manners  of  the  time  and  of  chivalry.  There 
was,  in  the  troop  of  Bayard,  a  lad  of  sixteen  or  seventeen, 
one  Guy,  or  Guiges  Guiffi-ay,  a  son  of  the  Lord  of  Boutieres. 
He  came  of  good  stock,  and  belonged  to  what  was  called, 
in  Dauphiny,  the  scarlet  of  the  nobility.  His  uncle  was  one 
of  those  brave  fellows  who  fought  under  Bayard  in  the 
combat  already  related,  of  thirteen  French  against  thirteen 
Spaniards.  The  nephew,  destined  hereafter  gi'eatly  to  dis- 
tinguish himself,  made  a  beginning  on  this  occasion  which 
gi'eatly  pleased  his  master.  The  boy  had  only  six  days 
before  been  admitted  among  the  archisrs  of  Bayard,  and 
naturally  longed  to  distinguish  himself,  and  to  emulate  his 
kindred.  It  was  while  the  combat  was  raging  most  fiercely 
that  he  beheld  the  standard-bearer  of  Rinaldo  Contarini's 
crossbow-men  throw  himself  over  a  ditch,  with  the  intention 
of  escaping.  Guy  Guiffray;  seeking  a  prominent  foe,  took 
the  leap  after  him ;  and  the  first  salutation  of  the  standard- 
bearer  was  a  thrust  from  the  demi-lance  of  the  boy,  which 
brought  him  to  the  ground.  The  lance  was  shivered  by 
the  blow,  such  was  the  honest  earnestness  of  the  assailant. 
Throwing    away   the  useless    weapon,    Guiffray   drew   his 


168 


BASSANO. 


sword,  and  bestrode  his  enemy,  "Yield,  ensign,"  said  he, 
"  or  I  kill  thee."  The  ensign  saw  not  the  size  of  the  lad — 
saw  nothing  but  his  own  danger ;  and  still  entertaining  a 
decent  sense  of  the  pleasures  of  life,  he  found  it  prudent  to 
comply  with  a  summons  so  imperatively  urged.  He  gave 
himself  up  accordingly ;  and  Guiffray,  happier  than  if  he 
had  found  a  purse  of  a  thousand  crowns,  made  his  captive 
remount,  and  led  him  straightway  to  Bayard,  who,  having 
more  prisoners  than  he  well  knew  what  to  do  with,  had 
caused  the  retreat  to  be  sounded.  The  Lord  of  Bonnet 
first  beheld  the  approach  of  young  Boutieres,  and  ciied  to 
Bayard,  "  Look  you,  sir,  I  pray  you,  at  Guy  Guiffray,  who 
cometh  with  a  prisoner  and  a  standard,  both  of  which  he 
hath  taken."  Bayard,  who  loved  the  boy,  and  had  him  in 
special  training,  was  as  much  delighted  with  the  event  as 
Guy  himself;  and  when  the  youth  approached,  he  said  to 
him,  "  How,  Boutieres,  have  you  alone  won  this  prisoner 
and  standard  ]"  **  Yes,  indeed,  my  good  lord,"  replied  the 
boy,  "  such  was  God's  will ;  and  he  did  wisely  to  suiTen- 
der,  otherwise,  I  should  have  killed  him." 

His  answer  delighted  the  company — the  good  knight  in 
particular — the  company  laughing  at  the  earnestness  with 
which  the  boy  declared  himself.  "  Boutieres,  my  friend," 
said  Bayard,  "  you  have  made  a  gallant  beginning.  God 
grant  that  you  persevere  always  in  the  same  manner." 
The  words  did  not  fall  upon  unheeding  senses.  The  train- 
ing of  our  chevalier  was  not  wasted  on  the  lad,  who,  in 
process  of  time,  commanded  vrith  great  distinction  in  Pied- 
mont, and  made  such  a  gallant  defence  of  Mezieres  against 
the  army  of  the  emperor,  as  to  anive  at  the  command  of  an 
hundred  gend'arms.  For  the  present,  we  put  him  out  of 
Bight ;  though  the  adventure  with  the  standard-bearer,  his 
captive,  is  by  no  means  finished. 

Meanwhile,  Bayard  had  been  examining  the  castle  of 
Bassano.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said  to  those  around  him,  **  we 
must  have  this  castle.     There   is  great  booty,  no   doubt, 


BASSANO    YIELDED.  169 

within  its  walls,  which  would  be  useful  in  the  hands  of 
our  people." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  was  the  answer;  "but  how  are  we  to 
come  at  it  ]  It  is  strongly  fortified,  and  we  are  without 
artillery." 

"  Hold  your  peace,"  answered  Bayard,  good-humoredly. 
"  I  have  a  method  which,  it  strikes  me,  will  give  us  the 
place,  with  all  its  booty,  in  half  an  hour." 

This  said,  he  called  up  the  two  captains,  his  prisonere, 
Scanderbeg  and  Contarini,  and  thus  addressed  them : 

"  Gentlemen,  we  must  have  this  castle  of  Bassano,  and 
you  must  cause  it  to  be  delivered  to  us  immediately.  You 
are  here  in  command,  and  it  is  in  your  power  to  yield  it. 
Your  lives  depend  upon  it ;  for  I  vow  to  God,  if  you  re- 
fuse, your  heads  shall  swing  before  its  gates  within  the 
hour." 

We  are  not  sure  that  the  character  of  modern  warfare 
would  justify  the  process  which  was  employed  by  Bayard 
to  effect  his  object.  It  will  suffice,  for  his  justification,  how- 
ever, that  the  proceeding  was  sanctioned  by  the  military 
practice  of  his  time,  and  found  no  rebuke  then,  even  "  in 
mouths  of  wisest  censure."  Reasoning  with  regard  to  in- 
trinsic laws — war  itself  having  fii-st  found  its  sanction — it 
does  not  seem  that  we  can  rebuke  any  of  the  acts  by  which 
a  victory  is  won.  Convention,  however,  sets  up  different 
standards,  according  to  the  caprices  rather  than  the  progress 
of  civilization,  and  we  must  always  guard  against  assump- 
tions arising  fiom  what  is  simply  a  practice,  wathout  look- 
ing, while  we  do  so,  to  the  application  of  first  principles. 
Enough  for  us  that  Scanderbeg  and  Contarini  were  very 
greatly  frightened  by  this  declaration,  which,  it  is  highly 
probable,  was  meant  only  to  intimidate  them.  They  prom- 
ised to  do  whatever  they  could,  and  as  the  commandant  left 
with  the  garrison  was  a  nephew  of  Scanderbeg,  the  result 
was  favorable  to  the  wishes  of  our  knight,  who,  within  the 

P 


170  THE    VENETIAN    ENSIGN. 

time  specified,  found  himself  in  possession  of  the  castle,  with 
all  its  goods  and  chattels. 

The  spoil  was  considerable,  and  belonged,  according  to 
the  usage  of  the  time,  entirely  to  the  captors.  There  were 
more  than  five  hundred  cows  and  oxen,  with  a  great  vari- 
ety of  other  plunder,  which  was  equally  divided  to  the  sat- 
isfaction of  all  the  parties.  The  cattle  made  its  way  to  the 
markets  of  Vicenza  ;  the  other  spoil  was  disposed  of  more 
summarily.  The  distribution  over,  our  knight  sat  down  to 
a  repast  which  had  been  prepared,  and  the  two  Venetian 
captains  were  invited  to  his  table.  Here,  as  they  were 
about  to  finish  theii'  meal,  the  youthful  Boutieres  made  his 
appearance,  bringing  his  prisoner  with  him.  The  contrast 
was  so  odd  and  striking  between  the  two  that  Bayard 
laughed  outright.  The  prisoner  was  thirty  years  of  age, 
and  almost  twice  the  height  of  the  little  archer.  Then  said 
our  chevalier  to  the  Venetian  captains,  "  Gentlemen,  this 
young  lad  whom  you  see  was  but  six  days  ago  a  page — 
his  beard  has  not  a  three  years'  growth,  yet  you  see  he  hath 
taken  your  standard-bearer.  We  hold  this  to  be  a  curious 
circumstance.  Now,  I  know  not  what  is  the  custom  with 
you,  but  we  French  are  wont  to  confide  our  standards  to 
none  but  the  most  valiant." 

The  Venetian  ensign  was  deeply  mortified.  He  saw  that 
he  had  lost  his  honor  by  the  event,  but  he  was  not  without 

his  apology "  Faith,  captain,"  said  he,  "  I  yielded  to 

him  by  whom  I  was  taken,  not  through  any  fear  of  him, 
for  he,  of  himself,  is  not  the  person  to  make  me  captive.  I 
might  easily  have  escaped  out  of  his  hands,  or  from  those 
of  a  better  warrior,  but  I  could  not  hope  to  contend  with 
your  whole  troop  alone." 

Bayard  looked  significantly  to  the  little  Boutieres,  and 
said — "  Do  you  hear,  Guy,  what  your  prisoner  says — that 
you  are  not  the  man  to  take  him  V 

The  answer  of  the  boy  was  precisely  what  the  chevalier 


THE    YOUNG    ARCHER.  171 

expected.  In  great  heat,  he  replied, — ''I  entreat  of  you  a 
boon,  my  lord." 

"  Ay,  marry,"  quoth  the  knight,  *'  and  what  is  the  boon, 
Boutieres  1" 

"Only,"  said  he,  "that  I  may  restore  the  prisoner  his 
arms  and  his  horse,  that  I  may  mount  mine,  and  that  we 
may  both  go  at  once  to  the  courts  below.  But  if  I  con- 
quer him  a  second  time,  let  him  look  for  nothing  but  death 
at  my  hands.  If  he  does  escape,  let  him  go  free  of  ran- 
som." 

Never  had  Bayard  been  better  pleased.  This  was  in 
the  very  spirit  of  chivalry.  "  In  good  sooth,  Boutieres," 
cried  the  knight,  aloud,  "you  have  my  permission;  be 
it  as  you  desire." 

"  Hear  you,  prisoner  *?"  cried  the  boy  to  the  Venetian. 
But  he  spoke  to  vacant  ears.  The  poltroon  shrunk  from 
the  alternative  proposed  to  him,  and  the  result  was  fatal 
to  his  character.  The  triumph  of  the  young  archer  was 
complete,  and  none  was  more  proud  of  his  pupil  than  the 
master.  It  was  not  the  smallest  merit  of  Bayard  that  he 
knew  so  well  how  to  infuse,  with  his  own  noble  and  fear- 
less spirit,  all  who  served  beneath  his  banner. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

If  the  drowsy-headed  MaximiHan  was  charmed  with 
the  adventure  of  Bayard  against  Messire  Lucio  Malvezzo, 
that  which  he  had  just  achieved  in  the  capture  of  Bassano 
and  the  taking  of  the  two  captains,  Scanderbeg  and 
Contarini,  ravished  him  still  more;  and  was,  indeed,  the 
talk  of  the  whole  camp  for  a  week  and  more.  Such  per- 
formances were  not  common  under  the  banner  of  a  prince 
so  really  feeble  and  unperforming  as  the  emperor.  The 
skill,  spirit,  confidence  and  prompt  military  resource  which 
Bayard's  performances  usually  displayed,  were  such  as 
would  have  made  him  remarkable  under  any  leader.  The 
French,  of  course,  were  full  of  glee  and  exultation,  while 
the  Germans,  Burgundians,  and  Hainaulters,  all  contend- 
ed in  bestowing  the  warmest  applauses  upon  our  cham- 
pion. Nor  was  little  Boutieres  without  his  share  of  the 
glory.  His  achievement  excited  meniment  wherever  it 
was  related,  but  a  merriment  which  honored  the  subject 
of  it,  without  disparagement  either  of  his  spirit  or  his 
performance. 

But  the  partisan  was  to  give  way  for  the  heavily-armed 
soldier.  The  proceedings  of  the  camp  must  now  receive 
our  attention.  Padua  has  been  battered,  as  we  have  seen, 
into  a  breach  sufficiently  capacious  to  receive  an  army. 
Shall  the  army  penetrate  this  breach]  It  was  while  Maxi- 
milian and  his  chiefs  were  discussing  this  question,  that 
Bayard  went  forth  seeking  adventures.  At  his  return,  the 
question  was  still  unanswered.  There  was  no  lack  of  con- 
sultation on  the  subject.  It  was  time  to  come  to  a  conclu- 
sion.     The  emperor,  deliberative  as  he  was  in  his  move- 


THE    BREACH.  173 

ments,  at  length  began  to  feel  somewhat  ashamed  of  the 
delay,  particularly  after  a  personal  survey  of  the  breach, 
which  was  nearly  half  a  mile  in  extent.  Of  course,  we 
remember  the  precautions  taken  by  Count  Pitigliano, 
within  Padua,  against  the  assault.  These  were  all  known 
to  the  besiegers.  In  some  degree,  they  were  the  cause 
of  this  delay. 

The  result  of  the  emperor's  personal  inspection  of  the 
breach  was  the  following  letter  to  Chabannes,  the  Lord  de 
la  Palisse,  commanding  the  French  troops  in  his  army : — 

"My  Cousin, 
"  I  examined,  this  morning,  the  breach  we  have  made 
in  the  walls  of  the  town,  and  find  it  sufficiently  large  for 
such  as  will  do  their  devoir.  I  deem  it  expedient,  there- 
fore, that  we  should  this  day  make  the  assault.  I  must 
entreat  of  you  accordingly,  that,  when  you  shall  hear  my 
great  drum  sound,  which  will  be  at  noon,  you  will,  with 
the  gentlemen  under  your  command,  in  my  service  as  in 
that  of  my  brother,  the  King  of  France,  repair  to  the  said 
assault  along  with  my  foot-soldiers.  With  the  aid  of  God 
I  hope  we  shall  cany  the  place." 

This  was  a  communication  to  astonish  Chabannes.  He 
certainly  regarded  it  with  some  dissatisfaction  as  well  as 
surprise.  But,  dissembling  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  he 
said  to  the  secretary  of  the  emperor,  who,  in  person  had 
brought  the  letter,  "  Really,  sir,  I  wonder  that  the  em- 
peror hath  not  thought  it  proper  to  send  for  my  companions 
and  myself,  the  better  to  advise  upon  this  assault.  How- 
ever, you  will  say  to  him  that  I  shall  call  them  together 
and  communicate  what  he  hath  wiitten.  I  may  venture 
to  say,  whatever  we  may  think  of  it,  that  none  of  us  will 
fail  in  yielding  obedience  to  what  he  is  pleased  to  com- 
mand." 

The  offensive  feature  of  this  communication  lay  in  the 
p* 


174  PREPARATIONS    FOR    ASSAULT. 

requisition  that  they  who  came  as  knights,  as  wamors  on 
horseback,  men  of  good  family  and  gentle  blood,  were  to 
fight  as  common  soldiers  along  with  the  German  infantry. 
But  the  discussion  which  followed  among  the  French  cap- 
tains will  better  declare  their  feeling  on  the  subject.  While, 
therefore,  the  secretary  of  Maximilian  returned  to  his  mas- 
ter with  the  answer  of  Chabannes,  the  latter  called  his  offi- 
cers together,  and  the  consultation  proceeded  in  his  tent. 
Meantime,  the  bruit  had  gone  abroad  that  the  assault  was 
to  be  made  that  day,  and  the  religious  feeling  of  the  gen- 
d'arms  rose  to  the  ascendant.  The  "Loyal  Servant,"  who 
was  Bayard's  secretary,  was  no  good  friend  to  the  priest- 
hood. The  abuses  of  the  holy  office  in  which  they  offici- 
ated have  too  often  brought  discredit  upon  the  faith  which 
they  professed.  "  Then,"  says  our  chronicler,  "  were  the 
priests  retained  by  sums  of  gold  to  hear  confession — a  mar- 
vellous circumstance — all  being  anxious  to  be  put  in  prop- 
er condition  for  such  change  as  might  happen  at  such  a 
juncture.  And  many  gens  d'arms  gave  them  their  purses  to 
keep  ;  by  reason  whereof,  no  doubt,  their  reverences  would 
have  been  far  from  displeased  had  they  whose  wealth  was 
in  their  keeping  perished  in  the  assault."  And  the  amount 
of  money  seems  not  to  have  been  small.  The  writer  from 
whom  we  quote  says,  that  "  so  much  money,  had  not  before, 
for  five  hundred  years,  been  seen  in  the  camp  of  any 
prince." 

Leaving  the  gens  d'arms  at  the  confessional,  we  return  to 
the  consultation  in  the  tent  of  Chabannes.  On  the  entrance 
of  his  officers,  this  nobleman  addressed  them,  playfully,  in 
this  language  :  "  Gentlemen,  it  is  fit  we  dine;  for  that  which 
I  have  to  relate,  might,  if  you  heard  it  before  your  dinner, 
somewhat  diminish  your  relish  for  it."  "  Now,"  says  the 
"  Loyal  Servant,"  "  these  were  only  words  in  jest.  Chaban- 
nes knew  his  companions  well.  He  knew  that  not  one 
among  them  but  was  a  second  Hector  or  Orlando,  not  to 
be  confounded  by  any  thing  that  he  either  saw  or  heard. 


THE    LORD    OF    HUMBERCOURT.  175 

Still  less  could  he  suppose  that  his  communication  would 
daunt  the  spirit  of  our  *  good  knight.'  "  They  proceeded, 
accordingly,  to  dinner,  which  the  chronicler  describes  as  a 
merry  one.  They  broke  their  jests  as  well  as  their  bread 
together,  and  bore  with  a  world  of  raillery,  which  they  re- 
turned, all  in  the  best  of  humor.  The  Lord  de  la  Palisse 
was  particularly  keen  in  his  thrusts  at  the  Lord  of  Humber- 
court,  who  gave  him  as  good  as  he  sent,  and  in  the  same 
blight  metal.  The  repast  was  finished  as  it  had  begun,  in 
a  joyful  and  pleasant  temper.     And  now  for  business. 

The  letter  of  Maximilian  was  read  by  Chabannes,  twice 
over,  in  order  that  nothing  of  it  might  be  misunderstood. 
This  duty  performed,  the  laughter  of  the  knights  succeed- 
ed. But  no  one,  for  some  time,  thought  of  offering  any  coun- 
sel. The  subject  was  one  of  considerable  difficulty.  They 
were  sent,  by  the  special  order  and  choice  of  their  own  sov- 
ereign, to  honorably  serve  another.  Undoubtedly,  had  the 
King  of  France  required  them  to  march  on  foot  into  the 
trenches  of  Padua,  they  had  done  so  without  a  murmur. 
Should  they  refuse  to  serve,  in  like  manner,  the  prince  to 
whom  they  were  sent  ?  The  point  of  honor  made  each  of 
them  hesitate  to  answer  in  the  affirmative.  And  yet,  there 
was  a  substantial  difference.  They  were  sent  to  Maximil- 
ian as  knights,  to  serve  on  horseback,  and  not  as  foot-sol- 
diers. They  were  sent  as  nobles,  and  not  as  hirelings.  The 
distinction,  in  our  day  still  obvious,  was  far  more  apparent 
then.  "We  have,  only  a  short  time  before,  seen  the  French 
monarch  consenting  to  arm  his  peasantry  and  make  a  na- 
tive infantry,  to  command  which  it  was  difficult  to  persuade 
his  nobles.  This  fact  will  convey  some  faint  idea  of  the  dis- 
gust which  the  requisition  of  the  emperor  caused  among 
the  French  cavaliers  in  his  army.  The  Lord  of  Humber- 
court  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence.  The  nut  was  too 
hard  for  him  to  crack,  and  he  was  prepared  to  swallow  it. 

"  Why  all  this  pondering  and  hesitation,  my  Lord  de  la 
Palisse  %     Say  to  the  emperor  that  we  are  all  in  readiness. 


176  THE    KNOT    UNTIED. 

For  my  part,  I  begin  to  tire  of  tlie  country.  The  nights 
are  getting  cold,  and,  what  is  worse,  the  better  sorts  of 
wine  are  failing  us."  Merrily  laughed  these  gay  compan- 
ions at  the  speech  of  their  comrade.  His  philosophy  was 
that  of  most  around  him.  They  felt  as  he  did,  and  were 
not  prepared  to  handle  the  difficulty  with  better  skill.  All 
spoke,  expressing  themselves  after  the  same  fashion — all 
except  Bayard.  He  alone  kept  silent,  picking  his  teeth,  or 
pretending  to  do  so — a  practice  which  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  unbecoming  in  those  days  after  dinner,  as  we 
pronounce  it  to  be  now.  He  seemed  to  pay  very  little 
attention  to  what  the  rest  had  been  saying.  At  length, 
Chabannes  addressed  him  in  particular,  and  with  a  smiling 
manner,  "  Come  !  you  French  Hercules,  what  do  you  say 
to  this  matter  1  This  is  no  time  to  be  picking  your  teeth. 
Remember,  it  is  an  emperor  that  waits." 

The  sagacious  warrior  had  not  been  idly  meditating  the 
subject.  He  alone  saw  how  the  knot  was  to  be  untied — 
in  what  way  to  crack  the  nut  which  each  captain  had  turned 
between  his  teeth  in  vain.  The  good  knight,  who  had 
ever  a  habit  of  jesting,  replied  gayly,  "  If  we  are  to  credit 
my  Lord  of  Humbercourt,  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
march  into  the  breach.  For  my  part,  as  I  conceive  it  soiTy 
sport  for  gendarms  to  go  afoot,  I  would  prefer  to  be  ex- 
cused. However,  since  it  is  my  opinion  that  you  seek,  you 
shall  have  it.  The  emperor,  it  appears,  commands,  in  his 
letter,  that  you  should  make  all  the  French  gentlemen,  go  to 
the  assault  on  foot,  along  with  his  lansquenets.  Though 
possessed  of  little  wealth,  my  lord,  I  am  still  a  gentleman. 
All  of  you  are  great  lords,  and  of  great  families  :  so  are 
many  of  the  gendarms  under  us.  Does  the  emperor  deem 
it  a  fitting  thing  that  such  noble  persons  should  be  placed 
in  the  same  ranks,  exposed  to  the  same  service,  with  his 
rabble  of  all  sorts,  the  scum  of  his  people,  none  of  whom 
have  any  sense  of  what  is  due  to  men  of  high  degree,  or 
even  of  honor  ?     Saving  his  imperial  grace,  there  is  some- 


NEW    DIFFICULTIES.  177 

thing  very  unseemly  in  such  an  aiTangement."  A  pause 
followed,  in  which  the  justice  of  this  opinion  was  admitted. 
Bayard  continued — 

*'  My  counsel  is,  my  Lord  de  la  Palisse,  that  you  convey 
•to  the  emperor  this  answer — that  you  have  had  your  cap- 
tains assembled  in  consultation ;  that  they  are  prepared  to 
execute  his  orders,  as  it  was  given  them  in  charge  to  do  by 
the  king  their  master.  You  will  then  remind  him  of  what 
he  knows — that  the  King  of  France  admits  none  but  per- 
sons of  gentle  birth  among  even  his  ordinary  men-at-arms. 
Say  to  him,  then,  that  to  require  such  as  these  to  fight 
among  common  foot-soldiery — persons  of  low  condition — 
would  be  treating  them  with  indignity.  You  will  then  say 
that,  as  he  has  with  him  many  counts,  lords,  and  noblemen 
of  Germany,  if  he  will  order  them  to  go  on  foot  with  the 
gendarms  of  France,  we  will  cheerfully  show  them  the 
way  into  the  breaches  of  Padua.  His  lansquenets  may 
then  follow  if  the  assault  should  promise  to  be  successful." 

This  was  the  way  to  get  at  the  kernel  of  the  difficulty. 
The  sentiments  of  Bayard,  and  his  suggestion,  at  once 
seized  upon  the  convictions  of  the  rest.  His  plan  was  at 
once  respectful  and  reasonable.  It  did  not  deny  the  required 
service,  but  it  coupled  it  with  the  only  condition  which 
could  keep  them  fi'om  being  dishonored  and  disgraced  by 
it.  The  Lord  de  la  Palisse  yielded  his  consent ;  and,  couch- 
ing the  views  of  the  French  knight  in  the  most  deferential 
language,  in  a  letter  to  the  emperor,  he  required  them  to  put 
themselves  in  armor,  awaiting  the  summons  of  that  august 
personage,  to  the  battle  and  the  breach.  The  communica- 
tion opened  new  difficulties  to  Maximilian,  which  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  anticipated.  He  professed  to  think  the 
views  of  the  French  captains  to  be  only  proper,  and  forth- 
with commanding  his  drums  and  trumpets  to  be  sounded, 
he  called  together  his  retinue,  consisting  of  all  the  princes, 
lords  and  noblemen  then  in  his  camp,  from  Germany,  Bur- 
gundy and  Hainault.     But  when  he  unfolded  to  them  the 


178  MAXIMILIAN    IN    COUNSEL. 

response  and  the  requisition  of  the  French  knights — show- 
ing the  readiness  of  these  to  enter  the  imminent  deadly 
breach,  on  foot,  as  infantry,  provided  the  gentlemen  of  Ger- 
many would  do  the  same — when  he  concluded  with  entreat- 
ing them  to  concur  in  the  arrangement,  which  would  surely 
vanquish  the  Paduans  at  the  first  assault — there  arose  such 
a  universal  hiss  and  hubbub  as  saluted  the  ears  of  Satan, 
when  he  unfolded  to  his  followers  the  successes  which  he 
had  had  in  Eden-^ 

"  Expecting 

Their  universal  shout  and  high  applause, 

To  fill  his  ear  ;  when,  contrary,  he  hears 

On  all  sides,  from  innumerable  tongues, 

A  dismal,  universal  hiss,  the  sound 

Of  public  scorn  ;  he  wondered " 

And  so  did  the  emperor ;  who  was  then  made  to  under- 
stand, for  the  first  time  seemingly,  how  monstrous  had 
been  the  requisition  which  he  had  made  upon  the  French 
knights.  It  was  a  good  half  hour  before  the  hubbub  could 
be  allayed  among  his  Germans,  Burgundians  and  Hai- 
naulters.  They  soon  let  him  know  "  that  they  were  not 
persons  to  be  driven  to  the  breach  on  foot — their  place  was 
on  horseback,  fighting  like  gentlemen."  And  the  excellent 
Maximilian  could  extort  from  them  no  more  favorable 
reply.  The  valiant  emperor  was  confounded.  He  called 
to  him  his  best  counsellors,  he  viewed  and  reviewed  the 
matter,  and  the  result  was  that  there  must  be  farther  delib- 
erations. There  was  no  entering  the  breach  that  day,  and  a 
special  message  to  this  effect  was  sent  to  the  Lord  de  la 
Palisse.  Then  it  was,  according  to  our  "Loyal  Servant," 
that  the  gendarms  forgot  their  prayers  of  the  morning,  and 
withdrew  from  the  priests  the  money  which,  had  they  per- 
ished, would  no  doubt  have  been  applied  to  pious  uses. 
The  priests,  alone,  according  to  this  satirical  character, 
were  dissatisfied  with  the  event.  "  Certes,  the  priests  were 
not  over-delighted  when  they  had  to  restore  what  they  had 
in  keeping."     The  French  knights  threw  aside  the  weap- 


HE    DISAPPEARS.  179 

ons  of  war,  for  that  day,  more  or  less   satisfied  with  the 
respite. 

It  is  due  to  the  Prince  of  Anhalt  to  declare,  that  he 
openly  avowed  his  disgust  at  what  had  taken  place ;  and 
avowed  his  personal  readiness,  with  his  immediate  compan- 
ions, to  join  with  the  French  knights  in  entering  the  breach 
on  foot.  He  made  this  offer  to  the  emperor  while  all  the 
rest  hung  back ;  and,  seeking  the  French,  renewed  the 
offer  to  them  also.  But  the  attempt,  with  so  small  a  body 
of  men,  was  simply  devoting  them  to  destruction,  and  such 
a  sacrifice  was  needless  for  any  other  object  than  simply 
to  retrieve  the  disgrace  of  the  commander-in-chief,  the  em- 
peror himself.  There  was  yet  one  more  proceeding  neces- 
sary to  fasten  upon  this  prince  the  discredit  of  being  faith- 
less to  his  allies.  The  very  night  of  this  famous  council 
he  stole  away  from  the  camp,  and  took  post  no  less  than 
forty  miles  distant  from  it.  The  fact  was  not  known  among 
the  French  till  the  day  after.  What  prompted  this  move- 
ment it  is  difficult  to  suggest.  Maximilian  was  not  a  per- 
son of  the  very  nicest  sensibilities ;  yet  there  may  have  been 
some  little  shame  to  annoy  him,  as  there  was  certainly  some 
mortification,  when  he  found  his  own  chivalry  unwilling  to 
do  that  which  he  had  not  scrupled  to  require  the  French 
knights  to  perform.  Accompanied  by  six  hundred  chosen 
followers,  he  took  the  route  toward  Germany,  and  the  next 
day  sent  word  to  his  lieutenant-general,  Constantine,  and  to 
the  Lord  de  la  Palisse  to  raise  the  siege  as  decently  as  they 
could — a  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion,  which  filled 
the  besiegers  with  shame  and  amazement,  and  the  besieged 
with  equal  joy  and  exultation.  But  there  was  no  remedy. 
The  breach  being  made,  they  did  not  stop  to  repair  it, 
though  that  might  have  been  only  a  becoming  and  Christian 
act  on  the  part  of  the  emperor.  A  council  was  held  among 
the  leaders  in  the  camp,  in  order  to  a  compliance  with  the 
will  of  their  superior.  They  had  only  to  obey,  and  their 
dehberations  concerned  only  the  mode  of  doing  so  with 


180  THE    SIEGE    OF    PADUA    RAISED. 

most  propriety.  To  raise  the  siege  was  a  job  quite  as 
serious  as  to  begin  it.  The  bombards  and  the  cannons, 
and  the  falcons,  were  to  be  withdrawTi,  and  there  were 
no  longer  carriages  for  one  half  of  them.  To  the  French 
was  assigned  the  arduous  duty  of  keeping  guard  while 
they  were  carried  away.  They  were  assisted  in  this  most 
troublesome  and  perilous  duty  by  the  generous  impulse 
of  the  Prince  of  Anhalt,  who,  with  seven  or  eight  hun- 
dred men,  volunteered  to  share  the  task.  The  burden  of 
the  war  really  fell  upon  this  small  fragment  of  this  mon- 
strous araiy.  The  Venetians,  emboldened  by  the  flight 
of  Maximilian,  and  the  breaking  up  of  a  camp  which, 
having  threatened  so  much,  had  done  nothing,  now  indulged 
in  continual  sallies.  The  gendarms  were  kept  fighting 
from  the  break  of  day  till  two  hours  after  night,  scarcely 
suffered  time  to  take  their  food,  and  never  entirely  without 
an  alarm.  The  sallies  from  the  town  were  conducted  with 
great  spirit  and  in  large  numbers ;  and  the  miserably-inef- 
ficient mode  of  conveying  the  artillery  subjected  the  escort 
to  a  delay  so  tedious  as  to  exhaust  their  strength  and  elas- 
ticity, even  if  it  left  their  courage  unimpaired.  The  French 
were  compelled  to  protect  themselves  equally  against 
the  lansquenets  and  the  Venetians.  The  former  were  ter- 
rible incendiaries.  They  burnt,  invariably,  the  lodging 
that  gave  them  shelter,  and  would  have  burnt  the  house- 
keeper also,  were  he  so  unwise  as  to  afford  them  the 
opportunity.  Some  of  the  handsome  houses  which  the 
troops  occupied  were  protected  with  difficulty  from  these 
wretches,  by  the  soldiers  and  painstaking  of  our  "  Good 
Knight."  At  length  the  artillery  was  fairly  on  the  road  for 
Germany,  and,  with  but  small  loss  to  the  defenders,  consid- 
ering the  frequent  fighting.  The  French  finally  reached 
Vicenza,  the  emperor  not  seeing  them,  but  in  some  degree 
atoning  for  his  deficiencies  in  other  respects,  by  sending 
presents  of  various  value  to  their  chief  captains,  our  hero 
not  being  forgotten.     The  Lord  de  la  Palisse  and  his  com- 


VERONA.  181 

panions  returned  to  the  duchy  of  Milan,  while  Bayard, 
with  the  greater  number  of  the  gendarms  who  had  been 
lent  to  Maximilian,  went  into  garrison  at  Verona,  Here  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  hear  of  him,  as  the  war  still  continued 
between  the  King  of  France  and  the  Venetians,  the  latter 
holding  a  large  garrison  at  Legnano,  which  frequently 
engaged  the  attentions  of  the  Veronese. 

Q 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

To  Verona  soon  came  the  feeble  gamson  which  the  em- 
peror had  placed  in  Vicenza.  They  were  driven  out  by 
the  approach  of  a  large  force  of  the  Venetians,  against 
which  they  knew  that  the  place  could  never  be  maintained. 
They  added  somewhat  to  the  strength  of  Bayard's  garri- 
son, which  the  contiguous  enemy  kept  busy.  The  Vene- 
tians occupied  several  neighboring  places,  from  which  they 
constantly  sent  forth  parties,  equally  strong  and  enter- 
prising, by  which  our  gendarms  were  frequently  annoyed 
and  straightened.  The  winter  season  was  approaching, 
and  the  garrison,  in  order  to  obtain  their  own  and  the  sup- 
plies necessary  for  their  horses,  were  compelled  to  seek  it 
from  a  great  distance.  The  foragers  were  so  frequently  lost 
that  a  convoy  became  necessary  for  their  protection ;  and 
scarce  a  day  passed  that  the  French  had  not  to  fight  for  it 
with  their  eager  and  active  neighbors.  The  conflicts  were 
usually  sharp  and  inspiriting.  The  Venetians  had,  among 
other  valiant  captains  who  gave  our  Frenchmen  disquiet, 
a  certain  Giovanni  Paolo  Manfrone.  He  was  so  bold  as 
to  make  his  incursions  up  to  the  very  gates  of  Verona. 
He  did  this  so  frequently,  and  with  so  much  audacity,  that 
the  piide  of  knighthood  was  wounded  in  the  bosom  of  our 
hero ;  and  he  resolved,  quietly,  the  very  next  time  when  the 
foragers  went  a-field,  to  lead  the  escort  himself,  and  to 
practice  some  neat  little  stratagem  by  which  to  take  Sigiior 
Manfrone  into  his  own  kindly  keeping.  But,  secretly  as 
Bayard  designed  this  civility,  it  was  not  possible  for  him  to 
keep  it  wholly  from  his  own  household,  and  there  was 
treachery  in  his  councils.     It  appears  that  Captain  Man- 


CAPTAIN    MANFRONE.  183 

frone  was  well  served  in  Verona.  He  had  a  spy  in  his 
pay  who  was  also  in  the  pay  of  Bayard,  and  who 
dwelt,  while  in  Verona,  in  the  family  of  the  latter.  This 
scoundrel  went  between  the  parties,  and,  inclining  more 
to  the  Venetian  than  the  Frenchman,  contrived  to  convey 
to  the  former  the  most  valuable  information.  He  apprised 
Manfrone  of  Bayard's  intention  on  this  occasion,  and  the 
former  prepared  for  him.  The  route  being  also  known 
which  the  foragers  were  to  pursue,  it  was  easy  to  do  so. 
He  resolved,  therefore,  that  whenever  Bayard  went  forth 
his  own  force  should  be  sufficiently  strong  to  make  the 
knight's  defeat  certain. 

Bayard,  meanwhile,  planned  his  little  stratagem,  never 
suspecting  the  pleasant  preparations  which  his  enemy, 
under  the  directions  of  his  own  spy,  was,  in  turn,  making 
for  him.  It  was  on  a  pleasant  Thursday  morning,  says 
our  minute  biographer,  when  Captain  PieiTepont,  one  of 
Bayard's  lieutenants,  with  some  thirty  or  forty  gens  d'arms, 
was  sent  forth  with  the  foragers.  PieiTepont  was  a  sensi- 
ble and  spirited  soldier,  and  a  cautious  one ;  but  he  had 
every  confidence  in  the  skill  and  policy  of  his  superior. 
Quitting  the  main  road,  this  troop  sallied  forth  into  the 
country,  seeking  the  victualling-houses  and  all  those  places 
in  which  their  bargains  for  provisions  were  to  be  made. 
Meanwhile,  Bayard,  taking  with  him  an  hundred  gendarms 
more,  made  his  way,  as  secretly  as  possible,  to  a  little  vil- 
lage on  the  high  road,  called  San  Martino,  some  s'ix  miles 
from  Verona.  Here,  believing  himself  equally  unsuspect- 
ed and  undiscovered,  he  sent  forth  his  scouts,  who  were 
not  long  absent  before  they  returned,  reporting  the  ap- 
proach of  the  enemy,  some  five  hundred  horse,  who  were 
moving  straight  on  the  route  which  the  foragers  had  taken. 
Pleased  with  these  tidings,  our  chevalier  at  once  set  his 
men  in  motion,  and  hun-ied  away  to  the  meeting  with  the 
strangers. 

Captain  Manfi'one  was  not  less  pleased  than  our  hero. 


184  BAYARD    OVERTHROWN. 

His  spy  had  duly  apprised  him  of  eveiy  step  which  was 
to  be  taken;  and  the  Venetian  had  accordingly  set  an 
ambush  along  the  road  that  Bayard  must  pursue,  con- 
sisting of  an  overwhelming  force  of  five  or  six  hundred 
pikemen  and  arquebusiers.  These  were  all  infantry,  and, 
lying  close  behind  the  walls  of  a  deserted  palace  which 
lay  convenient,  he  counselled  them  not  to  come  forth  till 
they  beheld  him  in  flight  and  the  French  pursuing.  He 
was  at  particular  pains  in  showing  them  his  plans.  His 
flight  was  a  pretext  only,  by  which  to  draw  the  gens  d'arms 
into  the  folds  of  the  ambuscade.  All  happened  as  he  in- 
tended. Bayard,  after  a  ride  of  a  mile  or  two,  caught 
.sight  of  the  mounted  men  of  Sigiior  Manfi'one.  With  the 
old  cry  of  "  France  and  Empire !"  he  set  upon  them  with 
his  wonted  impetuosity ;  and,  after  some  reasonable  show 
of  resistance,  quite  enough  to  excite  their  enemies  and 
disarm  suspicion,  the  Venetians  took  to  their  heels,  on  the 
road  leading  straight  into  the  jaws  of  the  ambush.  Having 
passed  a  small  distance  beyond  it,  they  wheeled  boldly  upon 
their  pursuers,  and,  with  cries  of  "  San  Marco,"  renewed 
the  fight  with  equal  spirit  and  confidence.  Then  it  was 
that  Bayard  found  that  he  had  been  betrayed.  The  infantry 
quitted  their  place  of  concealment  with  loud  outcries,  and 
the  arquebusiers,  pouring  in  their  shot  at  the  same  moment, 
they  rushed  upon  the  French,  who  found  themselves  taken 
in  flank  and  front,  and  on  all  sides.  At  the  first  fire  the 
horse  of  Bayard  was  mortally  wounded,  and  fell,  fasten- 
ing his  rider  by  one  of  his  legs  to  the  ground.  In  this 
situation  he  was  surrounded ;  and,  though  his  men  made 
a  desperate  onset  in  his  favor,  and  one  of  his  followers — a 
faithful  fellow  named  Grandmont — extricating  him  from  his 
horse,  and  stood  gallantly  to  the  encounter  at  his  side,  yet, 
girdled  by  a  small  but  determined  body  of  their  foes,  the 
two  fought  vainly,  and  were  made  piisoners.  But  ere  the 
captors  could  disarm  them,  Captain  Pierrepont  made  his 
appearance,  having   left    the  ft)raging  party.     He  darted 


RESCUED    AND    RESUMES    THE    FIGHT.  J  85 

at  once  to  the  rescue.  It  was  a  seasonable  succor.  At 
their  approach,  Bayard  suddenly  struck  down  the  men  by 
whom  he  was  guarded,  and,  with  Grandmont,  renewed  the 
fight  with  desperate  ferocity.  The  rescue  forced  the  cap- 
tors to  relinquish  their  prey  for  the  moment,  and  to  retire 
from  the  melee  in  order  that  the  arquebusiers  should  re- 
sume their  fire  without  endangering  their  own  people. 
Bayard  and  Grandmont  were  then  supplied  with  fi'esh 
horses,  and  the  former  renewed  the  engagement  at  the 
head  of  his  gendarms.  These  still  struggled  at  great  dis- 
advantage. The  Venetians  had  environed  them  precisely 
as,  on  a  previous  occasion.  Bayard  had  laid  his  snare  for 
Messire  Lucio  Malvezzo  ;  but  our  knight  had  a  more 
happy  genius  for  extricating  himself  from  his  meshes  than 
had  that  smart  young  cavalier.  Assailed  from  all  sides, 
with  a  force  of  more  than  four  to  one  against  them,  and 
with  the  arquebusiers  sending  their  shot  whenever  the 
field  would  so  open  as  to  suffer  them  to  distinguish  be- 
tween firiend  and  foe,  the  French  had  fearful  odds  with 
which  to  contend.  But  nothing  could  impair  the  coolness 
of  Bayard.  He  saw  all  his  difficulties  at  a  glance,  and  re- 
marked to  Pierrepont, — "  We  must  gain  the  high  road, 
captain,  or  we  are  lost.  If  we  can  do  that,  we  shall  make  off 
in  spite  of  them,  and  without  much  loss."  Pierrepont  con- 
curred in  this  opinion,  and,  to  this  object,  their  efforts  were 
directed.  Their  losses,  so  far,  had  been  inconsiderable ;  their 
horses  having  chiefly  suffered  by  the  bullets  of  the  musketry. 
Such  had  not  been  the  case  with  the  Venetians,  who  had 
paid  severely  for  the  predicament  into  which  they  had 
brought  their  enemies.  They  had  lost  forty  or  fifty  of  the 
infantry,  hewn  down  by  the  keen  swords  of  the  gendarms, 
whose  tempered  armor  had  saved  them  comparatively  un- 
scathed. Hard  was  the  fight  that  followed,  on  the  part  of 
the  French,  to  regain  the  road — on  that  of  the  Venetians  to 
embarrass  and  prevent  them.  But,  driven  forward  as  a 
wedge,  clinging  close   to   the  Venetian   cavalry,  and   thus 


186 


PROTRACTED    CONFLICT. 


baffling  the  assaults  of  the  arquebusiers  and  foot,  the  high- 
bred chivahy  of  France  at  length  succeeded  in  breaking 
through  all  impediments.  The  light-horse  of  the  Venetians 
were  scattered  from  the  path.  The  high  road  was  gain- 
ed after  a  stern  and  tenible  struggle.  It  was  then  that  the 
retreat  begun — an  affair  scarcely  less  arduous  than  their 
late  extrication.  To  fly  pell-mell  would  be  to  lose  every 
thing.  Their  hope  lay  in  keeping  close  and  compact,  and 
in  moving  off  with  a  deliberation  equal  to  their  fiminess. 
To  raw  soldiers,  this  would  have  been  impossible,  after 
such  a  conflict.  To  the  veterans  of  Bayard  it  was  much 
more  easy  than  flight.  "  Sauve  qui  pent"  was  never  the 
cry  in  his  battalions  ;  and  his  men  had  learned,  among 
their  first  lessons,  to  retreat  as  the  lion  does,  -vvath  his  face 
to  the  foe.  A  wound  in  the  back  was  a  death  to  reputa- 
tion. Thus,  then,  the  retreat  was,  conducted — slowly,  firm- 
ly, in  a  compact  body,  which,  at  eveiy  two  hundred  paces 
wheeled  about  and  gave  battle  to  the  pursuers.  But  they 
were  not  suffered  to  escape  thus.  The  worst  was  not  over. 
The  ambuscade  was  not  passed.  They  had  freed  them- 
selves from  the  actual  incumbrance  and  physical  weight  of 
the  Venetian  foot  and  horse  together.  They  could  baffle 
and  beat  the  latter  when  they  pressed  too  closely  upon 
them ;  but  the  accursed  arquebusiers  still  lay  upon  their 
wings,  and  still  were  the  shot  poured  into  their  retreating 
ranks.  Bayard,  who  ever  hated  this  teixible  implement, 
which  he  looked  upon  as  fatal  to  chivalry,  was  destined 
twice,  on  this  occasion,  to  suffer  from  its  missiles.  A  second 
time  was  his  horse  shot  under  him.  Finding  him  about  to 
fall,  he  leaped  from  the  saddle  at  the  moment  when  the 
Venetians  were  making  another  terrible  charge  ujion  his 
ranks.  Fighting,  sword  in  hand,  he  was  again  surrounded. 
He  achieved  miracles  with  his  sword,  but  must  a  second 
time  have  become  a  prisoner,  but  for  a  gallant  charge  of 
Du  Fay,  his  standard-bearer,  who,  at  the  head  of  his  arch- 
ers, put  in  at  a  most  fortunate  time  and  succeeded  in  rescu- 


THE    FRENCH    ESCAPE. 


181 


mg  bim.  The  assailants  had  set  thek  hearts  upon  this 
one  noble  victim,  seemingly  indifferent  to  any  other 
prize.  They  gnashed  their  teeth  vainly  at  the  prey  thus 
plucked  a  second  time  from  their  grasp.  Again  did  our 
hero  find  a  horse,  and,  heading  his  men  for  a  new  assault 
upon  their  pursuers,  drove  them  back,  and  was  per- 
mitted to  resume  the  retreat  without  farther  inteiTuption. 
The  peril  to  the  French  was  over  for  the  day.  They  had 
passed  through  a  terrible  conflict,  and  against  the  most  fear- 
ful odds.  Nothing  but  the  most  determined  valor,  the  most 
accomplished  skill  and  training,  and  an  exquisite  esprit  du 
corps,  which  is  almost  always  the  secret  of  success  in  battle, 
could  have  saved  them  from  utter  destruction  by  their  foes. 
The  battle  ceased  only  with  the  night.  They  had  passed 
without  the  range  of  the  arquebusiers  and  the  ambuscade. 
Assured  of  this.  Bayard  commanded  that  no  farther  at- 
tacks should  be  made.  Enough,  he  said,  that  they  should 
retire  without  loss  of  honor,  as  they  did.  They  reached 
San  Martino,  whence  they  had  set  forth  in  the  morning. 
Their  first  halt  was  at  a  little  bridge  which  was  furnished 
with  barriers.  To  this  point  had  they  been  pursued  by  the 
force  under  Manfrone.  Here  he  saw,  with  mortification, 
that  he  could  do  them  no  more  hurt ;  and,  sounding  the  re- 
treat, he  returned  toward  San  Bonifacio,  his  infantry  pre- 
ceding him.  They  were  all  very  weaiy  of  their  day's  work, 
and  not  quite  satisfied  with  the  issue.  Their  preparations 
had  contemplated  greater  results.^  They  had  looked  to 
destroy,  or  at  least  to  have  taken  captive,  all  the  little  com- 
mand of  our  hero.  Instead  of  that,  they  had  suffered  his 
escape  from  an  ambush  which  ought  to  have  held  thrice 
his  numbers  as  securely  as  the  complex  netting  of  the 
mammoth  spider  secures  the  fly  in  spite  of  all  its  feeble 
struggles.  Besides,  they  had  been  roughly  handled,  and 
the  chief  object  of  the  snare  had  broken  through  it  with- 
out loss  of  wing  or  spirit.  The  five  hours  which  had  been 
spent  in  fighting   had    exhausted    the  Venetians.      Their 


188  FRESH    ADVENTURES. 

foot-soldiers  resolved  to  tarry  in  a  village  but  four  or  five 
miles  from  San  Bonifacio.  Manfrone,  who  vi^as  a  prudent 
captain,  counselled  them  against  doing  so ;  but  they  never 
dreamed  that  they  had  any  thing  to  fear  from  tlie  troop 
they  had  just  driven  before  them.  Their  captain  kept  on 
his  vv^ay  to  San  Bonifacio,  leaving  them  where  they  chose 
to  stay. 

Meanwhile,  Bayard  and  his  troop  recovered  their  confi- 
dence in  a  survey  of  the  events  of  the  day,  and  in  the  con- 
solations of  a  good  supper.  When  they  reflected  upon  the 
smallness  of  their  losses,  and  the  large  number  they  had 
slain  of  the  enemy — when  they  considered  the  perils  of  the 
ambush  in  which  their  eager  valor  and  the  treachery  of 
their  spy  had  involved  them,  and  then  of  the  admirable  re- 
treat which  they  had  effected — they  felt  nothing  ashamed 
of  what  had  taken  place.  They  had  little  to  regret,  and 
much  which  might  justify  their  exultation.  Meantime,  one 
of  their  spies  made  his  appearance,  coming  direct  from 
San  Bonifacio.  Bayard  had  him  up  instantly  for  exam- 
ination. When  asked  what  was  doing  in  the  Venetian 
camp,  he  answered  that  a  large  body  of  troops  were  in 
San  Bonifacio,  the  talk  with  whom  was,  that  they  should 
soon  have  possession  of  Verona,  and  that  they  had  much 
good  intelligence  from  that  town.  The  spy  added,  farther, 
that,  just  as  he  was  about  to  depart.  Captain  Manfrone  made 
his  appearance,  terribly  chafed  and  heated,  who  said  he 
had  "fought  with  devil|from  hell,  rather  than  men."  "  Oii 
my  way  hither,"  concluded  this  emissary,  "  some  four  or 
five  miles  back,  I  passed  through  a  village  full  of  their  foot, 
who  are  heartily  worn  out,  and  are  lodging  there  to-night." 
"On  my  life!"  exclaimed  Bayard,  "they  are  the  infantry 
we  fought  with  to-day.  They  have  not  chosen  to  go  so  far 
as  San  Bonifacio  !  Well !  if  you  say,  gentlemen,  they  are 
ours !  The  moon  shines  brightly.  Let  us  give  our  horses 
a  fresh  feed,  and,  in  two  or  three  hours,  stir  up  these  foot- 
men with  the  points  of  our  lances." 


SURPRISE    OF    THE    VENETIANS.  189 

Now  this  is  the  genuine  spirit  of  the  partisan,  who,  when 
he  has  done  a  good  day's  work,  does  not,  for  that  reason, 
refuse  to  do  a  good  night's  work  also.     The  elasticity  of  a 
spirit,  to  whom  the  opportunity  of  adventure  never  comes 
amiss,  is  one  of  the  chief  requisites  of  a  cavalry  officer. 
Bayard's  suggestion  found  no  obstacle  among  his  followers. 
They  yielded  to  the   scheme  with   delight.     Their  horses 
were  provided  with  food ;   and,  with  a  strong  watch  set, 
commanded  to  arouse  them  at  a  certain  hour,  the  troopers 
addressed  themselves  to  sleep.     Bayard  was  one  of  those 
who,  on  such  occasions,  and  when  meditating  any  enter- 
prise, slept  but  little.     He  was  up  and  awake  long  before 
the  rest,  and  had  them  roused  about  three  hours  past  mid- 
night.    There  was  no  noise — no  unnecessary  flourish  of 
trumpets.     The  villagers  were  not  allowed  to  suspect  the 
departure  of  their  guests.     Soon,  the  troop  was  in  motion, 
and,  as  if  shod  with  felt,  were  stealing  off*  to  the  harborage 
of  their  drowsy  enemies.      They  reached,  in  little  time,  the 
village  where  the  Venetian  infantry  were  reported  to  have 
taken  up  their  quarters.     They  found  the  tidings  of  the  spy 
correct.      There  they  lay,  like  swine,  without  any  watch 
set,  and  sleeping,  totally  unconscious  of  an  enemy.     The 
cry   of  "France    and    Empire!" — "Kill!    kill!" — roused 
them  to  a  fearful  consciousness.     At  this  midnight  chaunt, 
which  our  old  biographer  calls  a  "joyous  one,"  the  sleepers 
aroused  themselves,  only  to  rush  upon  the  lances  of  the 
French.     Many  were  slain  as  they  issued  from  their  beds ; 
but  the  captain  of  the  Venetians  contrived  to  rally  a  force 
of  two  or  three  hundred  within  the  market-place,  and  here 
offered  resistance.    But,  half  awake  only,  and  paralyzed  by 
the  sudden  outcry,  assailed  by  an  enemy  on  several  quar- 
ters, the  conflict  was  soon  finished.     The  massacre  which 
followed  was  a  fearful  one.     The  gendarms  seldom  spared 
the   musqueteers,  whom   they  equally   feared   and    hated. 
Besides,  the  weapons  fought  with — the  sword  and  spear, 
making  the  conflict  usually  one  of  hand-to-hand — rendered 


190  BLOODY    CONFLICT. 

it  necessary  that,  where  one  would  not  submit,  he  must  be 
slain.  The  captain  of  the  Venetians  and  two  other  gentle- 
men were  made  prisoners.  The  great  body  of  the  soldiers 
perished  in  the  fury  and  desperate  havoc  of  that  midnight 
charge.  Bayard  returned  to  Verona,  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  a  conqueror. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


The  excellent  captain,  Joseph  Paul  di  Manfrone,  burned 
like  a  true  knight  of  chivalry  to  avenge  his  disappoint- 
ment, which  had  so  nearly  been  a  defeat.  He  w^as  the 
more  goaded  to  this  desire,  as,  independently  of  his  dis- 
appointment, he  was  severely  censured  by  the  Provveditore 
of  the  Seignory  for  having  left  his  unlucky  foot-soldiers  be- 
hind him  at  the  village  where  Bayard  surprised  them.  It 
is  true,  he  vindicated  himself,  in  this  respect,  against  these 
reproaches,  by  showing  that  he  strove  in  vain  to  bring  the 
wearied  wTetches  to  a  sense  of  their  danger;  but  the  re- 
proach and  the  disappointment,  rankling  together  in  his 
mind,  prompted  him  to  brood  over  some  new  schemes,  by 
which  to  extract  the  desired  atonement  from  our  more  for- 
tunate chevalier.  Having  reason  to  confide  in  the  spy  by 
whom  he  had  been  already  apprised  so  truly  of  the  move- 
ments of  Bayard,  and  who  continually  went  between  the 


192  NEW    SCHEMES    OF    MANFRONE. 

parties,  he  gave  him  his  instructions,  after  allowing  a  little 
time  to  elapse  after  the  recent  affair.  "  You  are,"  said  he, 
"  on  your  return  to  Verona,  to  assure  Captain  Bayard  that 
the  Seignory  of  Venice  hath  written  here  to  the  Provvedi- 
tore,  that  Captain  Manfrone  must  be  despatched  to  Leg- 
nano  for  its  better  defence ;  that  the  captain  now  there 
is  to  be  withdrawn,  and  sent,  with  a  number  of  galleys,  to 
the  Levant ;  that,  to  your  certain  knowledge,  Manfrone 
will  set  forth  to-morrow,  at  the  break  of  day,  with  but 
three  hundred  horse  and  no  infantry.  Now,"  continued 
the  wily  Venetian,  **  it  is  very  certain  that  his  spirit  is  so 
elated  at  what  hath  passed  between  us  already,  that  he 
will  not  suffer  me  to  travel,  after  what  you  shall  have  told 
him,  without  making  a  second  attempt  upon  me.  This,  if 
he  does,  he  will  scarcely  happen  to  escape  so  well  as  he 
did  formerly,  as  I  shall  take  with  me  two  hundred  horse  and 
as  many  thousand  foot.  The  latter  I  shall  place  in  ambush 
at  Isola  della  Scala,  where,  if  he  comes,  he  shall  find  good 
preparation  made  for  him.  Do  your  commission  well  and 
faithfully,  and  you  shall  have  an  hundred  golden  ducats." 

The  worthy  spy,  whose  name  was  Vincentina,  being 
quite  satisfied  with  such  liberality,  promptly  undertook  to 
execute  the  trust  confided  to  him.  The  secretary  of  Bay- 
ard does  not  seem  to  have  appreciated — certainly,  he  did 
not  relish — the  vocation  of  the  spy.  "  Spies,"  he  remarks, 
"  as  the  whole  world  should  know,  are  creatures  of  avarice 
alone.  If  one,  therefore,  out  of  six  of  them  escape,  surely 
he  hath  reason  to  thank  God  for  his  mercies, — seeing  that 
there  is  but  one  remedy  for  the  ailing  they  are  cursed 
with,  and  that  must  be  the  halter."  We  shall  not  gain- 
say this  charitable  opinion.  From  Captain  Manfrone  to 
Captain  Bayard,  the  flexible  Vincentina  made  his  way. 
Supposed  to  be  devoted  wholly  to  the  interests  of  our  cheva- 
lier, the  servants  and  soldiers  readily  made  way  for  him. 
He  was  brought  to  Bayard's  presence  just  as  the  latter 
was  finishing  his   supper.     He  was  received  kindly  and 


THE   SHIP.  193 

with  the  affable  welcome  so  natural,  to  our  knight. 
*'  What  news,"  said  he.  "  You  are  not  here  without  some 
tidings." 

"  Good  tidings,  God  be  thanked,  sir,"  answered  the  spy; 
so,  taking  him  apart  fiom  all  ears  but  his  own,  Bayard 
was  circumstantially  furnished  with  all  the  details  of  his 
budget  precisely  as  he  had  received  it  fi-om  the  subtle 
Captain  Manfrone.  The  judicious  Vincentina  so  garnish- 
ed his  naiTative  with  other  matter,  which  he  thought  would 
be  acceptable  to  our  knight,  that  never  hearer  was  more 
delighted  with  his  tidings.  Ordering  an  excellent  supper 
and  the  best  of  wines  for  this  worthy  intelligencer.  Bayard 
proceeded  to  call  his  favorite  captains  into  consultation. 
There  was  Captain  Pierrepont,  and  La  Varenne,  and 
the  Bastard  Du  Fay,  and  a  certain  Burgundian  captain, 
whom  our  knight  that  evening  had  at  supper — a  gi^acious 
person  it  would  seem,  from  his  name,  which  was  the  Lord 
de  Sucre.  These  heard  the  intelligence  with  pleasure,  and 
all  agreed  to  be  present  at  the  proposed  farewell  confer- 
ence with  the  excellent  Captain  Manfrone,  as  he  was  about 
to  leave  them  for  Legnano.  It  required  but  few  words  to 
persuade  them  to  be  in  readiness  before  the  break  of  day, 
each  with  two  hundred  gendarms.  The  Lord  of  Conti 
also  joined,  with  pleasure,  in  the  enterprise.  All  things 
were  working  quite  smoothly  to  the  end  which  Captain 
Manfi'one  and  his  emissary  desired ;  and,  but  for  the  Bm'- 
gundian  captain  with  the  sugary  name,  the  issue  might 
have  amply  atoned  for  the  previous  disappointments  and 
mortification  of  the  Venetian  captain.  But  it  so  happened 
that  when  the  spy  departed  it  became  necessary  for  the 
Lord  de  Sucre  to  depart  also.  His  lodgings  were  at 
some  distance,  and  it  required  that  he  should  leave  his 
companions  early  to  be  seasonably  prepared  for  the  gallop 
at  daybreak.  The  event  turned  out  most  providentially. 
It  was  on  his  return  that  the  Burgundian  beheld  the  spy 
suddenly  emerging  from  the  residence  of  a  Veronese  gen- 

R 


194  TREACHERY. 

tleman,  one  Messire  Battista  Voltiggio,  who  was  known 
to  be  well  affected  to  the  Venetian  interests,  and  very  hos- 
tile to  those  of  the  emperor.  "  San  Marco  was  written  in 
his  heart,"  says  the  "  Loyal  Servant."  The  Burgundian 
knew  the  spy,  having  noted  him  while  at  supper ;  and  spies 
are  natural  objects  of  suspicion.  The  times  were  such  as 
required  prompt  action  when  there  was  reason  to  doubt 
the  faith  of  one's  follower,  and  our  Lord  of  Sucre  was  one 
of  those  gentle  knights  with  whom  a  word  and  a  blow  are 
close  and  kindred  associates.  Addressing  the  spy  sternly, 
and  finding  him  change  colo**,  he  at  once  took  the  fellow 
by  the  throat,  and,^thus  encumbered,  returned  to  the  place 
where  he  had  taken  supper.  Bayard  was  just  about 
getting  into  bed,  hoping  to  snatch  a  little  sleep  before  the 
time  for  moving,  when  his  servants  gave  readmission  to  his 
guest.  The  spy  was  given  into  safe  keeping,  while  the 
Burgundian  took  his  seat  in  the  chamber  of  our  knight, 
who,  in  his  night-dress,  got  up  to  receive  him.  The  two 
sat  over  the  fire  while  the  visitor  told  his  story.  The  cir- 
cumstances were  quite  enough  to  awaken  his  suspicions. 
The  temper  of  the  Veronese  gentleman  whose  house  the 
spy  was  seen  to  leave,  was  one  of  well-known  sympathy 
for  the  Venetian  cause ;  and  the  conduct  of  the  spy  when 
arrested,  betrayed  his  treachery.  As  Captain  Sucre  said, 
"  When  I  sui-prised  him  he  was  marvellously  confounded." 
The  fellow  was  sent  for  instantly,  and  subjected  to  a 
close  examination.  Thoroughly  confused  and  terrified  by 
his  predicament,  he  told  half  a  dozen  stories  in  accounting 
for  his  visit  to  the  house  of  Battista  Voltiggio.  At  first  he 
stated  that  his  visit  was  to  see  a  relation,  but  this  tale 
he  did  not  long  rely  upon.  He  contradicted  himself  at 
every  sentence  ;  and,  as  they  could  not  bring  his  tongue  to 
proper  subordination,  it  was  necessary  to  seek  the  truth 
from  other  members.  A  pair  of  thumbscrews  were  sent 
for,  and  these  being  put  upon  him,  Bayard  thus  addressed 
him — "  Declare  the  truth  now,  Vincentina,  without  any  re- 


THE  spy's  confessions.  195 

serve  or  concealment,  and,  on  the  faith  of  a  gentleman,  no 
harm  shall  befall  you.  No  matter  what  you  may  reveal — 
even  if  you  shall  have  plotted  my  death — only  unfold  the 
truth  and  I  promise  you  safety.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
find  you  in  a  lie,  you  shall  sw^ing  from  the  battlements  by 
break  of  day  to-morrov7." 

The  counsel  thus  given  was  conclusive.  The  excellent 
spy,  thus  idly  hoping  to  serve  two  masters,  no  longer  think- 
ing of  the  hundred  golden  ducats  of  the  one  captain,  with 
the  iron  screws  of  the  other  upon  his  fingers, — finding  his 
secret  detected,  and  his  neck  in  danger — made  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  and  implored  for  mercy.  He  showed  the 
exquisite  little  scheme  of  Captain  Manfrone — told  of  the 
ambush  of  two  thousand  men  at  Isola  della  Scala — and 
confessed  that  his  visit  to  the  house  of  Messire  Battista 
Voltiggio  was  to  engage  him  in  another  nice  little  ari'ange- 
ment,  by  which  one  of  the  gates  of  the  town  was  to  be 
hospitably  thrown  open  the  very  same  night  to  the  Prov- 
veditore,  Messire  Andrea  Gritti,  a  gentleman  who  promised 
to  bring  with  him  guests  enough  to  fill  all  the  empty 
chambers  in  Verona.  The  spy  made  other  confessions, 
which  do  not  concern  us.  It  is  due,  however,  to  Voltiggio, 
for,  to  say,  that  the  former  acquitted  him  of  having  become  a 
party  to  the  last  mentioned-treachery — the  prudent  citizen 
declaring  that  being  in  the  allegiance  of  the  emperor,  he 
was  resolved  to  continue  faithful  to  his  authority. 

The  confessions  of  the  spy  proved  as  satisfactory  as  they 
were  ample.  Bayard  addressed  him  in  terms  of  pity  and 
sorrow  rather  than  anger.  He  had  yielded  his  full  faith  to 
the  traitor.  He  was  one  of  a  temperament  to  whom  it  is 
pleasant  to  confide.  Every  detection  of  faithlessness,  ac- 
cordingly, in  one  to  whom  he  had  trusted,  was  a  source  of 
pain  and  disappointment,  aside  from  the  immediate  con- 
sequences which  might  follow  upon  the  footsteps  of  the 
treachery.  "  I  have  bestowed  my  money  and  my  confi- 
dence upon  you  unprofitably,"  he  said  to  the  miserable 


196  COUNTERPLOT. 

wretch  before  him, — "  Within  that  breast  of  yours  is  hid- 
den a  base  and  wicked  heart.  Were  I  now  to  treat  you 
as  you  deserve,  you  should  suffer  death ;  but  I  spare  you 
as  I  promised.  You  shall  be  kept  safely  till  it  is  proper 
that  you  be  dismissed.  No  evil  shall  befall  you  in  my 
hands.  But  beware,  when  once  you  have  parted  from  my 
sight,  how  you  appear  before  me  again.  The  moment  that 
you  do  so  you  shall  surely  die." 

Thus  exhorted,  the  spy  was  taken  out  of  sight,  but  held  in 
close  keeping  for  the  present.  His  discharge  could  not  be 
suffered  until  the  interview  with  Captain  Manfrone  was 
over.  For  this  our  chevalier  began  his  consultations  with 
the  Burgundian  instantly.  But  little  time  was  left  them 
for  their  preparations.  As  for  avoiding  the  meeting,  and 
letting  the  excellent  Venetian  captain  retire  to  Legnano 
without  any  proper  military  attentions,  that,  of  course,  was 
never  thought  of  by  our  freux  chevalier.  "  And  now,  my 
friend,"  said  he  to  the  Lord  of  Sucre,  "  we  must  match 
craft  with  craft,  in  the  case  of  this  Captain  Manfrone.  If 
we  can  accomplish  this  meeting  after  the  plan  which  I 
contemplate  we  shall  perform  an  exploit  as  glorious  as 
any  that  hath  taken  place  these  hundred  years."  Captain 
Sucre  was  all  attention,  and  professed  his  readiness  to  do 
as  was  required  of  him. 

"Go  then,"  said  Bayard,  "to  the  Prince  of  Anhalt,  com- 
mend me  to  his  grace  ;  and,  after  laying  the  whole  affair 
before  him,  entreat  him,  on  my  part,  to  let  me  have  two 
thousand  of  his  lansquenets  before  the  dawn.  We  will 
take  them  along  with  us,  bestow  them  in  secrecy  upon  the 
route,  and  if,  by  the  time  the  affair  is  over,  you  do  not  say 
you  have  seen  wonders,  lay  all  the  blame  of  the  failure 
upon  me." 

The  Burgundian  proceeded  to  rouse  the  Prince  of  Anhalt, 
which  he  did  without  scruple.  He  conveyed  the  message 
of  Bayard,  and  obtained,  as  our  knight  well  knew  that 
he  would,  a  rendy  consent  to  all  he  asked.     Bayard  had 


BAYARDS    AMBUSH.  197 

completely  won  the  affections  of  this  brave  German,  as, 
indeed,  he  was  apt  to  do  in  the  case  of  all  his  associates. 
It  must  have  been  a  strange  and  impossible  thing  that 
he  would  have  refused  to  such  a  solicitor.  The  prepara- 
tions were  all  well  in  progress  before  the  Lord  of  Sucre 
returned  to  his  superior.  With  the  dawn  of  day  the  lans- 
quenets and  men-at-arms  were  in  readiness,  and  the  gates 
silently  unclosed,  opening  the  way  for  them  to  Isola  della 
Scala. 

"And  now,"  said  Bayard  to  the  Burgundian,  "do  you, 
with  the  lansquenets,  lie  in  wait  at  Servode.'^ 

This  was  a  little  village  but  two  miles  from  the  place  of 
Manfrone's  ambush. 

"  Give  yourself  no  concern  about  any  thing,"  continued 
Bayard,  "for  I  will  contrive  to  bring  your  enemy  within 
your  jaws.  Only  do  your  duty  like  gallant  fellows,  and 
you  will  win  your  brightest  honors  to-day." 

When  they  reached  Serv-ode,  accordingly,  Sucre  and 
his  lansquenets  went  into  ambush.  Bayard  then,  having 
properly  disposed  of  them,  set  forward,  accompanied  by 
the  Lord  of  Conti  and  others,  with  their  men-at-arms,  pro- 
ceeding toward  Isola  della  Scala,  as  if  they  had  no  suspi- 
cions of  the  place. 

This  town  commanded  a  vast  extent  of  plain,  over  which 
the  unobstructed  vision  could  take  in  objects  at  a  consider- 
able distance  on  every  side.  Some  light-horse  were  sent 
forward  to  reconnoitre,  and  an  advance  of  archers  under 
the  conduct  of  the  standard-bearer,  Du  Fay,  went  after 
them  to  skirmish.  Bayard  proceeded  leisurely  on  the 
same  trail,  at  the  head  of  the  cavalry,  which,  in  those  days, 
was  called  the  hattle.  It  was  not  long  before  the  Vene- 
tians became  visible.  Their  foot  was  seen  to  sally  out  from 
Della  Scala,  accompanied  by  a  troop  of  horse.  Bayard, 
then,  to  impress  his  enemy  with  the  notion  that  he  was 
dismayed,  bade  his  trumpets  sound  the  recall  of  his  advance. 
Hearing  this,  Du  Fay  retired  agreeably  to  his  instructions. 

R* 


198  THE    BATTLE. 

He  kept  his  men  closely  together,  and  seeming  to  make  for 
Verona,  yet  contrived  to  incline  for  the  village  of  Servode, 
where  the  lansquenets  were  in  ambush.  An  archer  sped 
forward  to  intimate  to  Sucre  to  hold  himself  in  readiness. 
All  this  seems  very  simple,  rehearsed  briefly  without  detail; 
but  all  the  perforaiances  of  the  party  were  distinguished  by 
great  good  conduct  and  much  wariness. 

Meanwhile,  the  horse  of  the  Seignory,  flanked  by  their 
troop  of  infantry,  made  quick  and  frequent  charges  upon 
the  French,  with  such  clamor,  halloo  and  clatter,  that  thun- 
der could  scarcely  have  been  heard  above  it.  They  were 
already  in  high  spirits  with  the  conviction  that  the  French 
could  not  well  escape  them.  The  latter  did  not  fly,  but, 
retiring  slowly,  continued  to  skirmish  coolly  and  discreetly, 
gradually  drawing  on  the  Venetians,  until,  within  a  bow- 
shot of  Servode,  they  all  at  once,  to  the  great  consternation 
of  the  latter,  discovered  the  lansquenets,  who  were  moving 
out  from  their  hiding-places  in  admirable  order,  precisely 
as  if  the  enemy  had  been  expected.  Then  it  was  that  the 
good  knight  made  his  trumpets  sound  the  charge,  while  he 
cried  aloud — "Gentlemen,  it  is  now  that  you  must  fall  upon 
them!"  He  had  timed  all  things  to  a  niceiy,  and  the  fray 
commenced  with  superior  terrors.  No  longer  curbing  in  their 
steeds,  and  their  own  brave  spirits,  the  gens  d'arms  darted  into 
the  faces  of  their  foes,  falling  upon  the  Venetians  with  a  fury 
proportioned  to  the  patience  with  which  they  had  hitherto 
forborne.  The  latter  proved  themselves  good  soldiers,  which 
men  are  not  apt  to  do  always,  when  coming  to  ensnare  they 
are  themselves  caught.  Their  cavalry  were  at  no  time 
able  to  stand  the  charge  of  the  men-at-arms  of  the  French; 
and  their  foot  had  been  too  far  beguiled  from  their  place 
of  refuge  to  render  it  possible  to  fly  in  safety.  The  only 
alternative  was  fight;  and  to  this  they  addressed  them- 
selves right  valiantly.  But  the  cavalry  of  Captain  Manfrone 
soon  sunk  under  the  superior  force  and  dexterity,  strength  and 
spirit  of  the  gens  d'arms ;  and,  charged  fiercely  on  all  sides  by 


FATE    OP    THE    SPY.  199 

the  lansquenets,  the  foot  were  cut  to  pieces.  Caught  in 
the  disorder  occasioned  by  pursuit,  they  were  taken  at  van- 
tage by  fresh  men,  in  greater  numbers  than  their  own,  who 
were  seldom  known  to  spare.  The  Germans  took  no  pris- 
oners unless  such  as  were  able  to  pay  ransom.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Captain  Manfi'one  sought,  by  desperate  valor,  to 
retrieve  his  misfortunes.  The  tide  of  battle  was  against  him, 
not  to  be  withstood  ;  and  it  was  only  when  all  hope  was  lost 
of  retrieving  the  day — when  it  was  sheer  desperation  to 
linger — that  he  wheeled  about,  and  turned  his  horse's  head 
toward  San  Bonifacio — a  long  and  dreary  ride,  particularly 
in  his  circumstances.  The  pursuit  was  not  severely  pressed. 
There  was  no  policy  to  waste  time  and  incur  unnecessary 
peril,  when  the  day  was  already  won,  and  the  prisoners  were 
numerous.  Bayard  ordered  the  trumpets  to  sound  the 
recall,  when  each  trooper  began  to  look  to  the  captive  of 
his  bow  and  spear.  The  gain  was  gi'eat  in  men,  horses 
and  other  booty.  The  loss  of  the  Venetians  was  very 
severe.  Twenty-five  horse  and  two  thousand  foot  are 
computed  to  have  been  slain.  Sixty  of  the  cavalry  were 
made  prisoners  and  taken  to  Verona.  There  arrived,  Bay- 
ard ordered  the  spy,  Vincentina,  to  be  brought  before  him. 

"Go,"  he  said,  "you  are  free !  Say  to  Captain  Man- 
frone  that  Captain  Bayard  will  always  be  ready  to  meet 
with  him,  and  trusts  to  satisfy  him  yet,  that  he  is  not  the 
only  Captain  who  can  devise  subtly  against  his  enemy." 

The  fate  of  this  miserable  creature,  thus  sent  back  to  the 
friends  whom  he  had  so  unfortunately  and  fatally  served, 
was  such  as  those  persons  are  apt  always  to  incur  who  hope 
to  play  a  double  game  with  parties  engaged  in  contests  of  life 
and  death.  Dismissed  from  Verona,  the  spy  had  no  refuge 
but  San  Bonifacio,  where,  no  sooner  had  he  reappeared, 
than  the  furious  Manfrone  set  upon  him,  and,  refusing  to 
listen  to  his  story  and  his  prayers,  had  him  strangled 
instantly  and  hung.  No  excuse  that  he  could  offer  could 
possibly  restore  to  the  infuriate  Venetian  the  self-esteem 


200 

and  the  gallant  troop  which  the  wretched   creature  had 
most  unwittingly  caused  him  to  lose. 

Wanting  in  the  smaller  details  which  impart  the  pic- 
turesque to  such  nan'atives,  and  in  which  individuals  figure 
always  in  the  foreground  with  an  interest  in  our  minds  ac- 
quired at  the  expense  of  the  masses,  there  is  necessarily  a 
uniformity  in  the  events,  which  prevents  us  from  duly  ap- 
preciating the  genius  of  a  commander,  who,  in  matters 
which  we  do  not  see,  and  by  efficient  orders  at  a  moment 
when  we  do  not  hear,  varies,  in  considerable  degi'ee,  per- 
haps, the  character  of  the  action.  It  has  been  remarked 
of  Bayard,  in  regard  to  these  successful  passages  at  arais, 
that,  though  the  events  here  resemble  each  other,  there  are 
nevertheless  some  obvious  differences  between  his  proceed- 
ings and  those  of  his  opponents,  even  where  they  contemplate 
the  same  end  and  the  same  means,  which  force  upon  us  the 
conviction  of  his  superiority,  as  well  in  mind  as  in  spirit. 
Thus,  it  is  shown,  that,  in  the  first  of  the  two  encounters 
with  Manfrone,  the  latter  comes  to  the  assault  with  j^ve  hun- 
dred men,  while  his  ambuscade  consists  of  six  hundred, 
Bayard  having  in  all  but  an  hundred  and  forty.  The  latter 
thus  boldly  comes  to  an  encounter  with  a  foe  whose  number, 
even  as  it  is  known  to  him,  was  nearly  four  times  that  of  his 
own.  In  the  second  affair,  when  told  that  Manfrone  is  about 
to  go  forth  with  three  hundred  men,  he  orders  two  hundred 
to  put  themselves  in  readiness.  Apprised  subsequently  of 
the  contemplated  treachery,  and  told  of  the  number  of  foot 
placed  by  the  Venetian  in  ambuscade,  he  contents  himself 
with  bringing  the  exact  number  into  the  field  against  them. 
There  is  a  real  grandeur  of  soul  in  this  forbearance,  such  as 
it  was  the  province  of  chivalry  in  its  palmy  days  to  inspire. 
The  remarkable  fact,  in  the  case  of  Bayard,  was  that  he 
had  so  completely  survived  that  era.  Still,  the  examples  of 
those  around  him  never  prompted  in  him  a  departure  from 
those  laws,  which  he  seems  to  have  imbibed  from  the  bosom 
of  his  mother — which  he  heard  in  all  the  lessons  of  his  fire- 


HIS    FAITH    IN    GOD    AND    HIS    PEOPLE.  201 

side,  and  which  his  whole  life  continued  to  illustrate  and 
exemplify,  to  the  last  moment  of  breath  and  action.  His 
faith  was  always,  after  God,  in  his  own  and  the  valor  of 
his  followers,  and  not  in  any  advantages  of  weapons  or 
numbers. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Thus,  in  a  predatory  guerilla  warfare,  the  season  for 
active  operations  was  consumed.  The  approach  of  winter, 
however,  did  not  wholly  prevent  the  incursions  of  the  rival 
forces.  The  Venetians,  still  holding  Legnano  with  a  nu- 
merous gan-ison,  were  not  idle,  and  the  foragers  and  scout- 
ing parties  from  Verona  were  still  kept  employed  in  cir- 
cumventing the  foe,  or  baffling  and  escaping  him  when  he 
showed  himself  too  strong.  The  opening  of  the  year  1510 
gave  new  activity  to  the  French,  under  stronger  impulses 
of  action.  The  motives  which  had  prompted  the  confeder- 
acy, which  was  the  fruit  of  the  league  at  Cambray,  having 
been  in  great  degree  satisfied,  the  allies  naturally  fell  off 
from  each  other.  The  rapid  successes  of  the  French  in 
their  Venetian  invasion,  in  which  they  had  done  their  work 
without  waiting  for  their  more  tardy  confederates,  had 
alarmed  the  jealousy  of  their  rivals  ;  and  the  Pope,  sudden- 
ly made  to  apprehend  that  Louis  might  acquire  a  prepon- 
derating influence  in  the  affairs  of  Italy,  was  ready  to  be 
reconciled  to  the  Venetians.  The  destruction  of  the  repub- 
lic of  Venice  would  have  given  to  the  French  monarch  the 
sovereignty  of  all  the  northern  parts  of  that  country,  from  the 
gulf  of  Genoa  to  that  of  Venice.  Induced  by  these  consid- 
erations, Julius  released  the  republic  from  his  spiritual  cen- 
sures, and,  satisfied  with  the  submission  of  its  authorities, 
received  it  once  more  into  his  favor.  As  this  reconciliation 
was  an  event  which  could  not  long  be  concealed  from  the 
public  knowledge,  he  lost  no  time  in  strengthening  himself 
against  the  resentment  of  France,  by  forming  alliances  with 
its  old  confederates.     Maximilian  was  won  to  his  wishes  by 


STORMING    OF    LEGNANO.  203 

a  timely  application  of  money ;  an  insurrection  was  excited 
in  Genoa ;  and  Ferdinand  of  Spain,  having  realized  from 
the  league  all  that  he  desired  or  expected,  was  now  not  un- 
willing to  co-operate  against  the  powerful  associate  of  whom 
he  was  always  emulous  and  suspicious.  The  natural  hos- 
tility prevaiUng  between  the  French  and  English  nations 
prompted  his  Holiness  to  make  an  attempt  on  the  monarch 
of  the  latter  people  ;  and,  in  order  to  persuade  Henry  VIH. 
to  a  descent  upon  the  coast  of  France,  the  Pope  sent  him 
the  consecrated  rose  dipped  in  chrism  and  perfumed  with 
musk.  Fifteen  thousand  Swiss  mercenaries  were  engaged 
in  this  service ;  and  the  Venetians,  having  gi-eatly  increased 
their  armies  by  foreign  subsidies,  not  excluding  the  Turks 
fi'om  participating  against  Christians  under  the  banner  of  the 
Cross,  the  Holy  Father  flattered  himself  that  he  was  fully 
prepared  to  encounter  the  French  king  at  his  own  weapons. 
Before,  however,  these  developments  were  made,  and 
while  the  terms  of  the  league  of  Cambray  were  ostensibly 
kept  by  all  the  parties,  the  celebrated  Gaston  de  Foix 
assumed  the  command  of  the  troops  of  France  in  Italy. 
He  brought  with  him  the  ancient  tutor  and  old  friend  of 
our  good  knight,  Captain  Louis  d'Ars.  The  two  were 
mutually  delighted  at  the  meeting.  Bayard  was  a  favorite 
and  friend  of  Gaston  de  Foix,  whose  own  brilliant  genius 
and  ardent  youth  made  him  naturally  desirous  of  the  aifec- 
tions  of  a  knight  who,  like  Bayard,  was  a  model  of  such 
perfect  chivalry.  The  reinforcement  of  troops  enabled  the 
French  to  lay  siege  to  that  town  of  Legnano,  from  the  in- 
cursions of  whose  wan-iors  they  had  suffered  so  long.  The 
place  was  taken  after  a  brave  defence,  and  the  garrison, 
according  to  the  terrible  custom  of  the  time,  were  ruth- 
lessly put  to  the  sword.  These  cruel  massacres — supposed, 
in  our  days,  to  be  only  tolerated  in  the  event  of  storm, 
occasioned  by  a  wanton  and  hopeless  defence,  and  not  to 
be  justified  or  approved  under  any  circumstances — were 
not  confined  to  the  actual  operations  of  the  war.     A  hor- 


204  GROTTO    OF    LONGARA. 

rible  occurrence,  about  this  period  and  in  this  region,  took 
place  near  a  great  village  called  Longara,  by  which  the 
terrible  temper  of  the  age  and  of  the  conflicting  parties  may- 
well  be  illustrated.  It  appears  that  the  people  of  this  vil- 
lage, to  the  number  of  two  thousand  of  all  sexes ;  fearing 
the  proximity  of  the  contending  troops,  had  taken  refuge 
in  an  extensive  cave  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  This 
they  had  stored  with  abundance  of  provisions,  and  had  pro- 
vided themselves  with  a  few  guns  and  sufficient  ammunition 
for  defence.  The  place  was  easily  maintainable,  since 
the  mouth  or  gorge  of  it  was  so  narrow,  that  two  persons 
could  not  assail  the  entrance  of  it  at  the  same  moment. 
It  so  happened  that  this  place  of  retreat  was  discovered 
by  that  class  of  banditti  which  hangs  about  the  skirts 
of  an  army,  as  the  jackall  haunts  the  footsteps  of  the  lion, 
seeking  for  the  prey  which  bolder  hands  have  struck. 
These  wretches,  apprised  of  the  spoil  within  the  cavern, 
made  an  effort  to  enter.  The  inmates  mildly  besought  them 
to  depart.  But  they  were  not  to  be  put  off  by  entreaties ; 
and  the  very  gentleness  of  those  who  expostulated  with 
them  served  only  to  increase  their  audacity.  Seeking  to 
penetrate  the  cave  with  violence,  they  were  met  by  such  a 
resistance  as  slew  two  of  their  number,  and  drove  the  rest 
away,  seeking  assistance  from  their  comrades.  These, 
when  they  came,  seeing  at  once  how  impracticable  was  the 
attempt  to  enter  by  force,  were  yet  unwilling  to  forego 
their  revenge  and  prey.  Rendered  ingenious  by  evil,  they 
conceived  the  horrible  idea  of  suffocating  the  inmates  of  the 
grotto.  They  closed  the  aperture  with  sti'aw  and  fuel, 
and,  setting  these  on  fire,  filled  the  chamber  with  a  smoke 
so  dense  as  to  stifle  all  its  inmates.  Their  ends  were  gained. 
Those  who  first  entered  the  cavern,  found  the  unhappy  vic- 
tims lying,  disposed  shigly,  or  in  groups  about  the  apartment, 
seeming  as  if  they  slept,  but  all  lifeless.  One  person  only, 
a  lad  fifteen  years  of  age,  came  forth  alive.  He  had  crept 
to  the  remotest  part  of  the  grotto,  where  he  found  a  small 


TH!e    CROAT    CHIEFTAIN.  205 

cleft  of  the  mountain,  from  which  he  drew  the  pure  air 
from  without.  This  lad  stated  that,  finding  their  danger, 
the  inmates  would  have  issued  from  the  cave,  but  that 
the  peasantry,  wath  their  triple-forked  spears,  assailed  them 
at  the  entrance,  and  drove  them  back  to  perish.  This  mon- 
strous crime,  thus  consummated  in  cold  blood,  without  any 
of  the  excitements  of  war,  or  provocation  of  battle,  produced 
a  terrible  sensation.  Bayard  was  the  first  upon  the  spot 
after  the  event  was  known,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  criminals.  The  task  was  not  so  easy  among 
those  upon  whose  silence  alone  depended  their  safety.  But 
two  wretches  were  convicted,  and  these  were  hung  at  the 
entrance  of  the  cavern  where  the  crime  had  taken  place. 
Bayard  himself  superintended  the  execution.  It  was  with 
a  feeling  of  relief  that  he  left  a  place  so  distinguished  by  its 
hoiTors. 

From  this  neighborhood,  the  army  moved  upon  Mon- 
selice,  which  the  Venetians  had  captured  and  fortified 
with  a  garrison  of  twelve  hundred  men.  While  on  the 
road  to  this  place,  the  skirmishers  of  the  army  were  en- 
gaged by  a  body  of  Croats,  in  the  Venetian  service,  who 
were  either  slain  or  captured.  Among  the  latter,  the  Lord 
Mercure  recognized  in  the  captain  his  own  cousin-german, 
by  whom  he  had  been  dispossessed  of  his  inheritance  in 
Alsatia,  and  who  was  the  greatest  enemy  that  he  had  in  the 
world.  The  captor  reminded  him  of  all  the  evil  he  had 
suffered  at  his  hands,  and  asked  what  should  now  prevent 
him  from  avenging  his  injuries.  The  other  answered  that 
he  had  been  taken  in  open  warfare,  and  should  be  admitted 
to  ransom.  He  concluded  by  proposing,  for  his  freedom, 
six  thousand  ducats  and  six  Turkish  horses.  *'  Of  that  here- 
after," said  Lord  Mercure;  "but  what  should  have  been  my 
fate  had  I  been  your  captive."  "  Then,"  answered  the  fierce 
barbarian,  "not  all  the  gold  in  the  world  should  have  saved 
you.  I  should  have  had  you  hewn  in  pieces  without  a  par- 
ley."    "  You  have   doomed  yourself,"  was  the  steni   an- 


206  TAKING    OF    MONSELICE. 

swer ;  and  at  a  word,  in  their  own  language,  the  Albanians 
fell  upon  their  prisoners  with  their  cimeters.  Not  a  man 
was  spared,  and  there  was  not  a  victim  upon  whose  uncon- 
scious carcass  the  keen  weapon  did  not  expend  unnecessary- 
blows.  Their  heads  hewn  off,  were  stuck  upon  poles ;  an- 
other trophy  of  that  barbarous  warfare.  Our  chronicler  tells 
that  the  head-tire  of  these  Croats  resembled  the  hood  of  a 
damsel,  and  mentions  that  the  part  which  covered  the  skull 
was  lined  with  five  or  six  pieces  of  paper,  glued  together, 
upon  which  it  was  found  that  the  edge  of  the  sword  could 
make  no  more  impression  than  upon  a  cap  of  steel.  These 
little  anecdotes,  unnecessary  to  our  biography,  are  yet  need- 
ful to  afford  a  fair  notion  of  the  manners,  the  modes,  and  the 
conditions  of  warfare  in  that  wild  and  savage  period. 

The  siege  of  Monselice  followed.  The  works  had  been 
so  much  strengthened  as  to  endure  a  battery  of  several 
days,  and  might  not  then  have  been  taken,  but  for  the 
courage  and  adventurous  spirit  of  the  defenders.  They 
made  frequent  sallies,  skirmishing  with  the  French  within 
a  stone's  throw  of  the  fort.  On  one  of  these  occasions  the 
Baron  of  Montfaucon,  with  Captain  Molart's  troop,  went 
unpreparedly  to  skirmish  under  the  walls.  A  strong 
body  of  the  inmates  issuing  forth,  gave  them  something 
of  a  drubbing.  The  French  fled  ; — the  Venetians  some- 
what too  eagerly  and  too  far  pursued.  The  fugitives 
meeting  probably  with  succors,  finally  turned  upon  their 
pursuers,  and  succeeded,  so  hot  was  the  chase,  in  entering 
the  gates  of  the  tovni  along  with  the  Venetians.  They 
opened  the  way  to  their  comrades.  The  ganison,  driven 
from  the  walls,  found  shelter  in  the  citadel.  This  was 
set  on  fire,  and  the  defenders  who  did  not  perish  in  the 
flames,  met  only  a  milder  form  of  death  on  the  pikes  of 
the  besiegers.  The  place  was  garrisoned  and  repaired, 
and  the  army  was  about  to  move  once  more  upon  Padua, 
when  news  reached  its  captains  of  the  defection  of  the 
Pope,  and  of  his  designs  upon  the  Duke  of  Feirara,  who 


War  with  the  pope.  207 

had  shown  himself  a  more  faithful  ally  of  France  than  the 
Holy  Father. 

This  was  intelligence  of  a  serious  character.  Such  was 
the  superstition  of  the  time,  that,  while  no  one  thought  it  at 
all  surprising  or  improper  that  the  Pope,  as  a  temporal 
sovereign,  should  make  war  upon  his  neighbors,  it  was  yet 
held  something  of  an  assault  upon  the  Church  itself  to 
make  war  upon  him.  The  French  nobles  and  captains 
entertained  feelings  of  this  sort,  and  listened  to  the  com- 
mands of  the  king  with  some  reluctance.  The  king  him- 
self was  not  without  his  fears  and  scruples.  It  was  re- 
served for  the  Commons  of  France,  showing  themselves 
superior  to  the  aristocracy,  to  declare  that  the  war  should 
be  urged,  and  that  if  the  Pope  was  not  unwilling  to  use 
the  sword  he  should  be  made  to  feel  it  also.  It  was  in 
consequence  of  this  decision  of  his  people  that  Louis  ven- 
tured to  direct  his  generals  to  sustain  his  faithful  ally  the 
Duke  of  Ferrara,  against  his  treacherous  ally,  the  Pope. 
The  grand-master,  Chaumont,  led  a  considerable  force  to 
Ferrara,  having  with  him,  among  other  famous  captains, 
the  good  knight  Bayard.  A  body  of  four  thousand  mer- 
cenaries— Swiss — formed  a  part  of  this  force.  They  were 
received  with  joy  by  the  duke  and  duchess,  who  had 
reason  to  apprehend  equally  from  the  energy  and  ambition 
of  the  Pope.  The  latter,  meanwhile,  pretending  that  Fer- 
rara was  a  part  of  his  tenritonal  right,  declared  his  pur- 
poseto  regain  it.  Proceeding  to  the  Bolognese  in  person, 
the  better  to  urge  his  preparations,  he  took  with  him  his 
cardinals  and  chief  persons,  and  established  his  court  at 
the  town  of  Santo  Felice,  a  large  village  lying  between 
Concordia  and  Mirandola.  The  Duke  of  Ferrara,  mean- 
while, and  the  French  with  him,  had  taken  up  their  quar- 
ters some  twelve  miles  fi'om  Fen-ara,  between  two  branch- 
es of  the  Po,  in  a  place  named  L'Ospitalletto.  Here  a 
bridge  of  boats  was  built,  and  well  guarded, — the  skir- 
mishes between  the   opposing  troops  now  becoming  fre- 


208  COUNTESS    OP    MIRANDOLA. 

quent,  and  this  bridge  being  essential  to  the  ready  ti'ans- 
mission  of  parties  for  reinforcement  or  assault.  On  reach- 
ing Santo  Felice,  Julius  sent  to  the  Countess  of  Mirandola, 
— a  widow,  who  was  a  natural  daughter  of  the  Lord  Jean 
Jacques  de  Trivulzio, — to  demand  that  she  would  sur- 
render Mirandola  to  his  keeping,  as  it  was  necessary  to 
him  in  his  design  upon  Ferrara.  But  the  brave  lady,  who 
was  quite  as  much  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  French 
as  was  her  father,  answered  this  demand  by  saying  that 
the  town  was  her  own,  which  on  no  terms  would  she  yield 
to  his  Holiness.  With  God's  aid,  she  was  resolved  to  hold 
it  fast  against  all  those  who  should  seek  to  take  it  from 
her.  The  Pope  was  an  angry  man  at  this  answer,  and  not 
satisfied  to  swear  by  St.  Peter,  he  swore  by  St.  Paul  also, 
that,  whether  by  fair  means  or  foul,  Mirandola  should  be 
his.  The  very  next  day  he  ordered  the  Duke  of  Urbino, 
captain-general  of  his  army,  to  lay  siege  to  it.  This  event 
had  been  anticipated,  and  Count  Alexander  de  Trivulzio, 
a  cousin  of  the  countess,  who  had  joined  with  her  in  her 
answer  to  the  Pope's  demand,  promptly  sent  for  aid  to 
the  French  captain  at  L'Ospitalletto.  The  request  was  im- 
mediately complied  wdtli,  and  two  cannoneers  and  an  hun- 
dred good  soldiers  were  instantly  sent  forward  under  the 
conduct  of  two  young  gentlemen,  one  from  Dauphiny, 
named  Montchenu,  a  nephew  of  the  Lord  of  Montoison, 
the  other,  Chantemerle,  a  native  of  the  county  of  Beausse, 
and  nephew  of  the  Lord  de  la  Lude.  These  seem  to  have 
been  under  the  training  of  our  chevalier,  for,  at  parting,  he 
gave  them  counsel  in  the  following  language, — such  coun- 
sel as  he  had  heard  from  his  superiors  when  first  setting 
forth  upon  adventures  : — 

"  My  sons,  you  are  about  to  enter  into  the  service  of  the 
ladies.  You  must  now  approve  yourselves  gallant  com- 
rades, if  you  would  win  their  favor.  Their  applause  is 
reputation.  The  town  to  which  you  go  is  a  strong  and 
good  one.      ff  besieged,  you  should  acquire  renown  in  your 


UAYARD    SCHEMES    TO    TAKE    THE    POPE.  209 

defence  of  it."  He  said  much  more  by  way,  not  only  of 
encouraging  them,  but  in  order  that  they  might  address 
their  eyes  and  aims  to  the  very  noblest  objects  of  ambition. 
He  himself,  with  a  small  escort,  accompanied  them  to  Mi- 
randola,  where  he  left  them  to  the  entertainment  of  the 
countess,  of  whom  they  had  no  reason  to  complain.  In 
three  days  after  their  arrival  the  siege  was  begun,  the  artil- 
lery playing  upon  the  walls  with  great  vehemence.  This, 
however,  produced  but  little  misgivings  within  the  town. 
Bayard  fixed  his  eyes  upon  this  leaguer,  having  his  own 
objects.  As  he  never  grudged  money  to  obtain  informa- 
tion, he  never  wanted  spies  and  other  emissaries  of  this 
sort.  He  kept  them  busy  in  watching  the  progress  and 
doings  of  the  Pope  himself,  quite  as  much  as  those  of  the 
besiegers.  His  heart  was  set  upon  capturing  his  Holiness, 
without  any  disparagement  of  the  claims  of  St.  Peter. 
This  purpose  seems  rather  to  conflict  with  what  is  said  by 
some  of  the  historians*  in  regard  to  his  supposed  reluctance 
to  engage  in  this  warfare.  He  had  no  such  reverence  for 
the  head  of  the  Church.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive,  if  such  re- 
luctance really  had  been  felt  as  has  been  asserted  in  his  case, 
that  we  should  find  him  scheming,  out  of  the  exact  line  of  his 
duty,  to  make  a  personal  assault  upon  the  holy  father  him- 
self. Yet  so  it  was.  When  told  by  one  of  his  spies  of  the 
intention  of  Julius,  who  was  still  at  Santo  Felice,  to  set 
forth  in  a  day  or  two  for  the  trenches  before  Mirandola,  he 
increased  his  watches  upon  that  sacred  person,  and  counsel- 
led his  spies  to  assure  themselves,  certainly,  when  he  would 
depart  on  this  journey.  This  point  ascertained,  our  devout 
chevalier,  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche,  laid  his  plans  for  taking 
into  his  pious  keeping  the  Pope  of  Rome  and  all  his  car- 
dinals. He  communicated  his  sheme  to  the  Duke  of  Fer- 
rara  and  the  Lord  of  Montoisin.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he, 
"  I  am  advised  that  the  Pope  will  leave  Santo  Felice  to- 
morrow morning  for  Mirandola.  These  two  places  are  six 
■*  See  the  suggestion  in  the  History  of  France,  by  Crowe,  Vol.  i.,  p.  147. 


210  THE    AMBUSH. 

good  miles  asunder.  I  have  conceived  a  project  which,  if 
successful,  M^ill  be  apt  to  be  remembered  for  an  hundred 
years  to  come.  A  couple  of  miles  from  Santo  Felice  there 
are  two  or  three  fine  palaces  which  are  now  abandoned. 
It  appears  to  me  that  if  I  should  go  to-night  and  place  my- 
self in  watch  in  one  of  these  palaces,  taking  with  me  a 
hundred  gendarms,  but  attended  by  neither  page  nor  groom, 
I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  laying  hold  on  his  Holiness 
to-morrow.  He  will  be  accompanied,  I  am  told,  by  his 
cardinals,  bishops  and  prothonotaries,  and  guarded  only  by 
an  hundred  horse.  If  this  be  the  case,.  I  can  not  fail  to 
have  him.  The  alarm  can  not  reach  his  camp  ere  I  have 
made  my  escape,  as  it  is  fully  ten  miles  from  that  place  to 
this.  Even  supposing  n>e  to  be  pursued,  it  will  be  easy 
for  us  to  guard  against  mishap,  since  you,  my  lord  duke, 
and  you,  my  Lord  de  Montoisin,  have  only  to  pass  the  bridge 
in  the  morning,  with  the  rest  of  the  horse,  and  wait  for  me 
four  or  five  miles  on  the  road." 

The  proposal  met  with  the  full  approbation  of  the  per- 
sons he  addressed,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  put  in 
practice  the  measures  resolved  upon.  That  night,  after 
having  seen  his  horse  well  fed,  and  taken  all  precautions, 
Bayard  set  forth  with  an  hundred  gens  d'arms,  such  as  he 
well  knew  would  stand  valiantly  the  shock  of  battle.  He 
was  fortunate  to  encounter  no  person  upon  his  route ;  and 
he  proceeded,  as  aiTanged,  to  ensconce  himself  snugly,  an 
hour  before  day,  in  one  of  the  fine  palaces  along  the  r^ad 
which  Julius  was  to  pursue.  This  prince  was  an  early 
riser,  and  was  in  his  litter  with  the  dawn.  The  prothonota- 
ries, clerks  and  officers  set  forth  in  advance,  in  order  to 
prepare  lodgings  for  his  Holiness  This  was  a  precaution 
which  had  not  been  anticipated,  and  which  might,  even 
without  the  occurrence  of  any  other  event,  have  tended  to 
defeat  the  ambush  of  our  knight.  With  the  appearance  of 
these  people  under  his  walls.  Bayard  gave  the  signal,  and 
the  men-at-arms  darted  forth  upon  their  prey.     These  were 


THE    pope's    narrow    ESCAPE.  211 

conquered,  captured,  dispersed  in  an  instant,  some  of  them 
nishing  back  with  lamentable  outcry  to  give  the  alarm. 
But  even  this  misadventure  would  not  have  availed  for  the 
escape  of  the  prey,  had  it  not  been  for  a  more  decided  in- 
terposition of  Providence.  At  the  very  moment  when  the 
Pope  had  ascended  his  litter,  and  before  he  had  left  Santo 
Felice  a  stone's  throw,  there  fell  such  a  sudden  and  violent 
stoi-m  of  snow  as  to  blind  the  party  and  drive  them  back. 
The  travellers  could  no  longer  behold  each  other.  The  Car- 
dinal of  Pavia,  by  whom  the  movements  of  Julius  were  very 
much  governed,  ,then  said  to  him — "  Holy  Father,  it  is  im- 
possible to  go  forward  while  this  storm  continues.  There  is 
no  necessity  for  it,  and  we  should  return  without  proceeding 
farther."  Little  dreaming  of  the  fortunate  escape  which 
he  made  by  this  decision,  the  Pope  assented  to  the  advice. 
The  litter  was  wheeled  about,  and  well  was  it  for  him  that 
his  progiess  had  been  so  little  forward.  Bayard,  not  find- 
ing his  prey  among  the  fugitives  he  had  dispersed,  dash- 
ed them  aside  ;  unfortunately,  without  stopping  to  secure  his 
prisoners.  Making  his  way  at  full  speed,  he  urged  the 
chase  almost  to  the  entrance  of  Santo  Felice.  He  was 
furious  at  being  baffled  in  his  scheme  and  defi'auded  of  his 
object ;  and,  such  was  his  impetuosity,  that  a  moment  more 
would  have  given  him  the  prize  he  aimed  at.  Just  as  he 
reached  Santo  Felice,  the  Pope  heard  the  alarm  and  out- 
cry. He  was  about  to  enter  the  gate  of  the  castle.  So 
great  was  his  terror,  that  he  leapt  from  his  litter  without 
assistance,  and,  with  his  own  hands,  helped  to  raise  the 
bridge  which  at  length  separated  him  from  his  audacious 
pursuer.  "  This  was  wisely  done,"  says  the  old  biographer, 
"for,  had  he  only  lingered  while  one  should  murmur  id^  pater 
noster,  he  had  surely  been  snapped  up." 

The  disappointment  of  our  knight  was  very  gi'eat,  though, 
certainly,  there  was  nothing,  either  in  respect  to  commis- 
sion or  omission,  which  should  subject  him  to  blame.  The 
plot  was  a  good  plot — a  very  excellent  plot — and  nobody 


212  BAYARDS    CHAGRIN. 

could  have  calculated  on  such  a  fall  of  snow,  just  at  the 
precious  moment,  as  had  not  fallen  for  a  hundred  years. 
Bayard  chafed  in  his  disappointment  beneath  the  walls  of 
the  castle  which  had  given  shelter  to  his  prey.  It  was  not 
a  place  of  strength,  and  with  a  single  piece  of  artillery  it 
might  have  been  captured  in  half  an  hour.  But  his  lancers 
might  have  driven  at  the  battlements  until  they  wore  away 
with  rust,  without  displacing  a  single  stone.  It  became 
necessary  that  he  should  see  to  his  own  safely  and  limit  his 
meditations  upon  the  strength  of  Santo  Felice.  They  were 
but  six  miles  from  the  Pope's  camp  at  Mirandola,  a  strong 
force  from  which,  apprised  of  his  whereabouts,  might  give 
him  a  disgraceful  discomfiture.  With  a  few  prisoners,  all 
men  of  God — bishops  and  such  pacific  sort  of  people — and 
many  baggage-mules,  and,  we  may  suppose  much  baggage, 
the  gendarms  were  put  in  motion  for  L'Ospitaletto.  On 
the  way,  they  encountered  the  Duke  of  Ferrara  and  the 
Lord  de  Montoisin,  but  they  could  not  console  our  hero  for 
his  disappointment.  It  did  not  satisfy  him,  the  assurance 
that  no  partisan  was  expected  to  regulate  the  snow-storms. 
It  was  not  his  reputation  but  his  ill-foitune  that  he 
deplored.  The  Pope  in  his  clutches,  the  war  had  been 
finished  at  a  stroke — so  much  ruin  and  devastation  avoided, 
so  much  blood  spared,  so  many  noble  lives  saved.  The 
prisoners  were  dismissed,  on  payment  of  a  small  ransom — 
the  mules  having  no.  preference  for  either  service,  conclud- 
ed to  remain  with  the  French.  Our  old  chronicler  chuckles 
at  the  great  fright  which  our  good  chevalier  gave  to  the 
Holy  Father.  He  sees  him,  crouching  close  in  the  castle 
of  Santo  Felice  all  that  day,  shaking  as  if  an  ague  fit  were 
on  him  ;  nor  would  he  again  venture  forth  until  his  nephew, 
the  Duke  d'Urbino,  had  come  to  him  with  an  escort  of 
several  hundred  horse.  Then  it  was  that  he  appeared  be- 
fore Mirandola,  where  the  siege  was  conducted  under  his 
eye  with  the  greatest  perseverance.  The  snow-storms 
which  had  begun  to  work  their  mischances  with  knight 


CAPTURE    OF    MIRANDOLA.  213 

Bayard,  did  not  withhold  their  evil  influences  from  the 
noble  lady  who  held  the  garrison.  They  prevailed  to  the 
overthrow  of  her  defences.  For  six  days  and  nights  the 
snow,  falling  without  intermission,  covered  the  country  to  a 
depth  of  six  feet.  A  hard  frost  succeeding,  paved  the 
ditches  and  moats  around  the  town  so  as  to  make  them 
passable  for  the  enemy.  Two  wide  breaches  had  been 
made  by  their  artillery,  and  the*  situation  of  the  Duke  of 
Ferrara  and  his  French  allies  was  such  as  to  preclude  them 
from  affording  any  relief.  In  this  condition  the  countess 
was  forced  to  capitulate.  The  imperious  Julius  refus- 
ing to  enter  through  the  gateway,  marched  through  the 
breaches,  made  by  his  cannon,  into  the  place  which  he  had 
captured. 

The  effect  of  this  success  was  to  produce  some  alarm  in 
the  camp  of  the  Duke  of  FeiTara.  His  forces,  being  une- 
qual to  those  of  his  opponent,  gave  him  reason  to  fear  that 
he  himself  might  be  besieged  in  turn.  He  destroyed  the 
bridge  which  he  had  made,  cutting  off,  as  well  as  he  might, 
all  the  approaches ;  and,  retiring  within  the  town,  determ- 
ined to  maintain  it  to  the  last. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

It  is  due  to  the  old  associates  of  Bayard  that  we  should 
occasionally  look  aside  from  his  particular  fortunes,  in  or- 
der that  theirs  should  not  be  entirely  forgotten  ;  and  a  dis- 
tinguished man  lives  so  much  in  the  career  and  conduct  of 
his  comrades,  that  these  constitute  a  necessary  study  for  the 
better  appreciation  of  his  merits.  He  has  helped  to  form 
and  mould  their  characters,  and,  in  this  manner,  must  meas- 
urably develope  his  own.  Besides,  in  a  work  like  ours,  it  is 
properly  pennitted  that,  in  order  to  the  attainment  of  a  just 
idea  of  the  moral  and  social  atmosphere  in  which  the  hero 
strives,  we  must  look  at  the  progress  of  other  and  rival  per- 
sons under  the  same  influences.  We  must  see  how  far, 
with  the  same  means  to  operate  with,  and  the  same  agen- 
cies at  work  upon  them,  they  approach,  in  their  perform- 
ances, those  from  which  his  distinction  has  been  derived. 
These  motives  will  cany  us  back  for  awhile  to  the  town  of 
Legnano,  which  we  have  seen  yielded  by  the  Venetians, 
after  a  severe  and  protracted  struggle,  to  their  enemies. 
The  place,  when  taken,  was  strengthened  in  its  defences 
and  well  ganisoned,  and  was  placed  in  the  keeping  of  one 
whom  we  have  seen  frequently  fighting  gallantly  at  the  side 
of  our  chevalier  and  under  his  direction.  This  was  the  gal- 
lant Captain  La  Crote.  La  Crote  was  prudent  as  well  as 
brave;  he  had  properly  learned  the  lessons  of  his  master; 
and,  being  enjoined  to  keep  Legnano  safely,  and  to  peril 
nothing  of  his  charge  upon  doubtful  ventures,  he  was  not 
to  be  beguiled  fi'om  his  garrison  by  the  frequent  provoca- 
tions of  the  Venetians,  who,  emboldened  by  his  forbear- 
ance, made   their  incursions   up  to  his  very  gates.     But 


SIR    GU YON    DE    CANTIERS.  215 

La  Crote,  after  awhile,  fell  grievously  ill,  so  that  his  life 
was  despaired  of,  and  the  active  control  of  the  place  M^as 
temporarily  confided  to  less  prudent  hands.  Surrounded 
by  young  people  and  volunteers,  who  were  eager  for  ad- 
venture and  ambitious  of  renown,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to 
restrain  them  from  frequent  rashness.  There  was  one 
young  knight  in  particular,  one  Guyon  de  Cantiers,  who 
was  passing  valiant,  but  of  far  less  conduct  than  courage. 
This  Sir  Guyon  had,  among  other  spies  in  different  quar- 
ters, one  in  the  Venetian  town  of  Montagnana,  a  place  about 
twelve  or  fifteen  miles  distant  from  Legnano.  This  spy, 
visiting  his  employer  frequently,  was  liberal  always  in  the 
news  he  brought.  According  to  his  accounts  there  were 
opportunities  continually  offering  for  snapping  up  bodies  of 
the  Venetians,  small  and  large,  wdth  the  provveditore,  Mes- 
sire  Andrea  Gritti,  at  their  head.  One  scheme,  in  particu- 
lar, was  greatly  insisted  on,  by  which,  if  Sir  Guyon  and  his 
companions  would  establish  an  ambush  at  a  certain  place 
near  the  town  of  Montagnana,  the  provveditore,  who  fre- 
quently came  there  with  two  or  three  hundred  light-horse, 
might  be  pounced  upon  and  taken  by  a  gallant  company, 
without  danger  of  defeat  or  disappointment.  The  town, 
it  was  shown  by  the  same  grateful  oracle,  might  be  captur- 
ed afterward,  on  like  easy  conditions. 

Sir  Guyon  was  greatly  inflamed  with  the  idea  of  this  ad- 
venture, and  dismissed  the  spy  with  the  assurance  that  the 
next  visit  of  the  provveditore  to  Montagnana  would  surely 
find  him  in  the  designated  place  of  harborage.  Upon  the 
spy, however,  it  depended  to  say  when  the  provveditore  was 
to  be  looked  for.  This  emissary,  in  the  pay  of  both  parties, 
disclosed  his  secret  to  the  Venetians,  by  whom  it  was  eager- 
ly entertained.  Messire  Andrea  Gritti  accordingly  prepar- 
ed himself  for  our  eager  Frenchman,  placing  in  ambush  a 
couple  of  hundred  horse  and  a  thousand  foot,  and  taking 
with  himself,  on  his  next  visit  to  Montagnana,  a  large  force 
of  horse  and  foot  to  the  number  of  two  thousand  more. 


216  THE    AMBUSH    FOR    SIR   GUYON. 

His  ambush  was  instructed  to  suffer  the  advance  of  the 
French,  but  to  oppose  their  return.  Meanwhile,  our  spy 
returned  to  Sir  Guyon,  and  reported  progress.  According 
to  his  account,  the  provveditore  had  with  him  but  a  couple 
of  hundred  horse.  Sir  Guyon,  highly  charmed  with  the 
prospect  before  him,  sought  out  a  comrade  named  Malherbe, 
and  engaged  him  in  the  affair.  But  it  was  necessary  to 
gain  permission  from  Captain  La  Crete  for  the  incursion. 
They  gave  him  all  the  details,  but  he  listened  with  misgiv- 
ings. "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  you  know  that  my  life  and 
honor  are  pledged  to  keep  Legnano  safely.  Your  adven- 
ture is  full  of  peril.  Should  it  prove  unfortunate,  I  were  a 
lost  man — disgraced  forever,  and  doomed  to  wear  out  the 
rest  of  my  days  in  neglect  and  melancholy.  I  cannot  suffer 
you  to  undertake  this  venture."  But  they  would  take  no 
denial.  They  knew  their  ground,  they  were  sure  of  their 
emissary,  and,  in  the  infirm  health  of  La  Crete,  who  was 
still  an  invalid,  they  succeeded  finally  in  wresting  from  him, 
almost  by  force,  the  desired  permission.  Two  hours  after 
midnight  they  left  Legnano,  under  the  conduct  of  the  treach- 
erous spy;  Malherbe  leading  a  small  troop  of  gendafms,  fifty 
in  number,  while  Sir  Guyon  conducted  a  larger  body  of 
three  hundred  foot.  "  Ceites,"  says  the  favorite  chronicler, 
"there  quitted  Legnano,  on  that  day,  the  very  flower  of  its 
chivalry — the  hardiest  of  its  veterans,  and  the  most  prom- 
ising of  its  youth."  They  passed  the  first  ambuscade  which 
the  provveditore  had  set  near  a  little  village,  but  were  suffer- 
ed to  pass  without  any  alann  or  annoyance.  When  with- 
in a  short  mile  of  Montagnana,  their  guide  said  to  them 
.  .  .  .  "  Now,  gentlemen,  suffer  me  to  go  and  see  what  is  do- 
ing in  the  town.  Do  you  remain  here — stand  close,  and 
watch  well  and  patiently  till  I  can  bring  you  tidings." 
'*  Better,"  says  the  "  Loyal  Servant,"  in  his  indignation,  **  bet- 
ter had  they  cut  off  his  head  than  suffered  his  departure." 
He  proceeded  instantly  to  the  provveditore  and  informed 
him  that  he  had  brought  the  fish  into  his  net.     "  Unless  it 


THE    COMBAT,  217 

be  your  pleasure,"  said  he,  "  not  one  can  escape,  for  they 
have  already  passed  your  ambuscade."  The  Venetian  cap- 
tain was  instantly  on  horseback.  His  men,  both  horse  and 
foot,  an  overwhelming  force,  issued  promptly  from  the  town, 
though  stealthily ;  an  hundred  men  being  sent  forward  to 
skirmish,  and  to  draw  the  Frenchmen  more  completely  into 
their  folds.  The  latter  rushed  gayly  to  the  encounter, 
never  dreaming  of  other  customers.  At  the  first  charge 
the  Venetians  retreated,  and  the  French  pushing  on,  soon 
found  themselves  in  the  presence  of  a  multitude.  "  We 
are  betrayed,"  said  the  bold  Sir  Guyon  ;  "  but  must  not 
be  daunted ;  we  can  still  escape."  The  flight  was  conduct- 
ed properly,  and  with  skill  and  spirit.  If  the  rashness  of 
youth  had  involved  them  in  ruin,  the  young  knights  were 
prepared  to  encounter  it  with  the  hardihood  and  defiance 
of  approved  soldiers.  The  foot  were  sent  forward,  while 
the  slender  troop  of  gendarms  sustained  the  brunt  of  the 
assault.  This  was  urged  fiercely ;  but  so  well  did  the  cav- 
aliers ply  their  weapons,  that  the  loss  was  inconsiderable 
until  they  reached  the  village  where  the  ambuscade  had 
been  planted.  Then  it  was  that,  at  the  trumpet's  signal, 
the  Venetians  sallied  forth  like  a  swarm  of  wolves,  and 
throwing  themselves  across  the  route  to  Legnano,  the 
French  found  themselves  enclosed  between  two  armies, 
each  of  which  was  four  times  their  own  strength.  No 
quarter  was  asked  or  given.  The  cry  of  the  Venetians  was 
to  smite  and  slay,  and  in  gnm  and  desperate  silence  our 
little  troop  of  young  adventurers  stood  foot  to  foot  against 
the  foe,  fi'om  whom  they  had  nothing  to  expect  but  death. 
"Never!"  exclaims  our  ancient  biographer,  "never,  since 
God  created  heaven  and  earth,  was  there  better  fisfhtingf 
for  one  day,  according  to  the  number  of  combatants  en- 
gaged. For  four  hours  did  the  murderous  conflict  continue, 
the  French  retreating,  but  still  fighting;  still  falling,  but  still 
unconquered.  In  this  desperate  struggle  they  had  made  their 
way  till  within  four  miles  from  Legnano.     Then  it  was  that 

T 


218  STKATAGEM    OF    THE    VENETIANS. 

the  provveditore,  by  mounting  certain  crossbow-men  on 
horses,  succeeded  in  breaking  the  perfect  and  compact  ar- 
ray of  the  foot.  Most  of  the  gendarms  were  now  in  this 
body,  their  horses  having  been  killed  under  them.  The  un- 
fortunate Sir  Guyon,  finding  that  all  was  lost,  rushed  like  a 
chafed  lion  into  the  ranks  of  the  Venetian  infantry,  and,  after 
several  wonderful  instances  of  valor,  killing  five  or  six  of  the 
enemy  with  his  own  hand,  he  paid  the  penalty  of  his  indis- 
cretion, and  atoned  in  some  degree  for  his  lamentable  error 
by  a  glorious  death.  He  was  overpowered  and  slain,  with 
every  man  of  his  three  hundred.  Malherbe  and  five-and- 
twenty  of  his  comrades,  were  all  that  survived  the  carnage, 
and  these  were  taken  prisoners. 

The  complete  destruction  of  the  party  (not  one  having 
escaped  to  convey  the  intelligence  to  the  garrison  at  Leg- 
nano)  suggested  to  the  provveditore  a  scheme  for  getting 
possession  of  that  town.  Causing  the  French  soldiers, 
horse  and  foot,  to  be  stripped  of  their  clothes  and  aiTnor, 
he  arrayed  an  equal  number  of  his  own  people  in  their 
habits.  To  these  he  delivered  some  hundred  or  hundred 
and  twenty  others  of  his  people,  but  in  their  Venetian  cos- 
tume. These  were  to  be  led  along  among  them  as  prisonei*s. 
His  instructions  to  this  party  were,  that  they  should  go  to 
Legnano,  and,  when  sufficiently  near,  should  set  up  cries 
of  "  France  and  Victory."  The  gates  once  thrown  open, 
as  to  their  own  people,  they  were  .to  rush  into  the  town,  sure 
of  being  followed  by  the  whole  force  of  Messire  Andrea 
Gritti,  who  was  to  conceal  himself,  with  his  squadrons, 
within  bow-shot  of  the  walls. 

The  scheme  was  well  conceived,  and  nothing  was  omitted 
which  could  add  to  its  plausibility.  The  French  ensigns 
were  to  float  above  their  heads.  The  Venetian  were  to 
be  seen  trailing  in  the  dust  beneath  their  feet.  Even  cer- 
tain falcons,  with  which  it  appears  that  some  of  the  young 
French  gallants  had  set  forth  on  their  fatal  adventure,  were 
carefully  presei-ved  and  conspicuously  carried  along  with 


BERNARD    DE    VILLAR3.  219 

them.  The  directions  of  the  provveditore  were  carried  out 
probably  with  quite  as  much  spirit  as  they  well  could  be. 
With  clamors  of  victory,  and  every  show  of  joy  and  exul- 
tation, the  seeming  Frenchmen  made  their  way  to  Leg- 
nano,  and  approached  within  bow-shot,  sounding  trumpets 
and  clarions.  It  happened,  however,  fortunately  for  the 
garrison,  that  the  Lord  of  La  Crote  had  with  him  one  of 
those  shrewd,  sagacious  persons,  who,  with  rare  instincts, 
perceive  a  deception  at  a  glance.  Such  persons  are  to  be 
found  in  all  armies  where  there  are  many  veterans.  In  this 
case,  the  sagacious  individual  was  a  lieutenant,  one  Ber- 
nard de  Villars,  an  old  knight,  whose  life  had  been  one  of 
continued  military  service.  Ascending  the  tower  of  the 
gateway  as  these  exulting  Frenchmen  appeared  in  sight, 
he  was  struck  by  the  very  excess  of  their  rejoicing.  This 
led  to  a  closer  scrutiny;  and  he  said  to  one  near  him,  "  De- 
scend and  cause  the  draw-bridge  to  be  lowered  and  then 
drawn  up  again.  These  are  indeed  the  horses  and  accou- 
trements of  our  people,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  the 
men  ride  after  our  fashion.  Unless  I  am  very  much  mis- 
taken, these  are  none  of  ours.  Ill  luck  may  have  befallen 
our  party.  My  heart  misgives  me.  If  these  be  our  people, 
they  can  wait.  We  shall  find  that  out  easily  enough  when 
they  draw  nigh.  If  they  be  enemies,  betake  yourselves  to 
the  barricade.  I  have  here  two  pieces  loaded,  with  which 
I  shall  help  you  if  necessary." 

Meanwhile,  the  disguised  Venetians  dashed  forward,  sup- 
posing the  draw-bridge  to  have  been  lowered,  and  not  con- 
jecturing that  it  had  been  again  drawn  up.  The  man  at 
the  bridge  having  called  to  them  as  they  approached,  with- 
out receiving  any  answer,  had  retreated  in  safety  to  the 
banicades ;  and  their  true  character  becoming  apparent  to 
our  veteran,  Bernard  de  Villars,  he  gave  them,  as  they  ap- 
proached, a  blast  from  his  artillery,  which  stopped  them 
short  in  their  career.  Not  succeeding  by  surprise,  all  farther 
attempts  upon  the  town  were  abandoned  as  hopeless,  and  the 


220  LA    BASTIA. 

Venetians  retired,  satisfied  with  the  spoil  and  glory  which 
they  had  won.  This  event  had  nearly  been  fatal  to  the  noble 
captain  of  the  garrison,  who  bitterly  reproached  himself 
with  having  yielded,  against  his  better  judgment,  to  the 
solicitations  of  his  inexperienced  and  unfortunate  young 
men.  He  had  nearly  died  of  giief  under  his  own  sense  of 
error  and  the  extreme  displeasure  of  his  king,  who  was 
appeased  with  difficulty.  It  is  very  certain  that  Bayard, 
with  all  his  eagerness  for  adventure,  would  never  have  al- 
lowed himself  to  be  persuaded  by  his  captains  against  his 
better  judgment.  To  him,  after  this  digression,  let  us  again 
return. 

The  Pope,  after  the  taking  of  Mirandola,  held  a  council 
of  war,  to  whom  he  submitted  his  views  in  regard  to  the 
siege  of  Ferrara,  which  he  was  anxious  to  undertake  with- 
out loss  of  time.  While  all  his  counsellors  concurred  in  the 
propriety  of  reducing  Ferrara,  they  necessarily  differed  as 
to  the  proper  modes  of  operation.  Ferrara,  very  strong  in 
itself,  was  well  provided  with  troops.  Unless  its  supphes 
could  be  arrested,  it  would  cost  many  lives  before  it  could, 
be  taken.  Having  the  means  in  his  power  for  cutting  off 
the  supplies  by  the  Po,  the  Pope  fancied  he  should  deprive 
them  of  all  provisions  from  above  the  beleaguered  city; 
while,  from  below,  the  vigilance  of  the  Venetians  would  be 
equally  certain  to  straighten  them  in  that  quarter.  To  this 
a  Venetian  captain,  named  Giovanni  Forte,  answered  that 
even  this  would  be  inadequate  to  effect  their  object.  He 
showed  them  that  the  territory  under  the  control  of  the 
Duke  of  Ferrara  was  itself  abundantly  productive  for  the 
necessities  of  the  garrison,  and  that  provisions  could  reach 
him  by  Argento.  "  On  the  other  side,"  said  he,  "  there  is 
a  tract  of  country  called  II  Polesino  di  Sto  Giorgio,  which 
is  so  rich,  that,  even  if  FeiTara  derived  nothing  from  any 
other  quarter,  this  would  be  amply  able  to  furnish  the  town 
for  a  yea»r.  To  arrest  these  supplies,  it  is  first  necessary 
that  you  should  capture  the  place  called  La  Bastia,  about 


bayard's  counsel.  221 

twenty-five  miles  from  Ferrara.  Were  that  in  our  power, 
the  fall  of  Ferrara  would  be  very  certain  in  the  space  of 
two  months." 

His  advice  was  taken,  and  the  impatient  Julius  instantly 
ordered  to  the  attempt  the  Venetian  by  whom  the  suggestion 
was  made  and  a  couple  of  experienced  Spanish  captains. 
To  these  were  assigned  a  force,  consisting  of  two  hundred 
gens  d'arms,  five  hundred  light-horse,  and  five  or  six  thou- 
sand foot,  the  latter  provided  with  six  pieces  of  heavy  artil- 
lery. La  Bastia  was  feebly  garrisoned,  and  the  officer  in 
command  was  terrified — as  well  he  might  be — at  the  pow- 
erful force  sent  against  him.  At  the  first  sign  of  danger,  he 
despatched  a  trusty  soldier  to  convey  the  tidings  to  FeiTara. 
Bayard  was  the  first  to  encounter  this  messenger,  and  to 
ask  his  business.  When  told  that  La  Bastia  could  not  hold 
out  a  day  unless  succored,  he  conducted  him  at  once  to  the 
duke.  The  fort,  which  was  a  strong  one,  had  but  twenty- 
five  soldiers  in  garrison — a  force  not  to  be  spoken  of  in  re- 
gard to  their  availableness  against  such  an  army  as  that 
which  Julius  had  assiofned  for  the  sie^e.     The  tidings  drove 

o  o  o 

the  blood  from  the  cheeks  of  the  duke.  "If  I  lose  La 
Bastia,"  said  he,  "  I  may  as  well  abandon  FeiTara.  The 
place  is  twenty-five  miles  off,  and  must  be  relieved  before 
to-moiTow.  To  gain  the  place,  it  is  necessary,  at  this  time, 
that  the  troops  should  pursue  a  difficult  road,  so  narrow 
and  intricate,  that,  for  the  space  of  half  a  mile,  the  men 
must  march  singly,  one  by  one.  There  is  one  pass  in 
which  twenty  men  might  hinder  the  progress  of  as  many 
thousand.  Of  this,  however,  I  believe  our  enemies  know 
nothing." 

Bayard,  seeing  the  duke  so  much  dismayed  by  the  im- 
pending necessity,  which  was  certainly  an  extreme  one, 
presumed  to  interfere.  *'  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  we  may 
leave  a  trifling  matter  to  the  hands  of  chance,  but  in  an 
affair  so  vital  as  this,  we  should  strain  every  nerve  to  en- 
counter the  danger.    Our  enemies  are  besieging  La  Bastia. 


222  IT    IS    ADOPTED. 

They  deem  themselves  in  perfect  security,  because,  the 
large  army  of  the  Pope  being  here,  they  fancy  we  dare 
not  quit  Ferrara  to  raise  the  siege.  Now,  my  lord, 
I  have  thought  of  a  thing  which  may  be  easily  executed, 
and  unless  fortune  prove  very  adverse,  must  result  in  the 
safety  of  La  Bastia,  and  our  own  great  honor.  You  have 
in  this  town  some  four  or  five  thousand  foot,  very  brave 
fellows,  and  admirably  versed  in  all  the  arts  of  war.  Let 
us  take  two  thousand  of  them,  with  the  eight  hundred 
Swiss  of  Captain  Zemberg,  and  pass  them  over  night  in 
boats  upon  the  water.  We  are  still  masters  of  the  Po  as 
far  as  Argento.  These  forces  will  wait  for  us  at  the 
passage  of  which  you  have  spoken.  If  they  arrive  first 
they  will  take  Argento ;  and  the  horse  that  are  here  will 
travel  all  night  by  land.  With  good  guides,  we  can  reach 
La  Bastia  by  break  of  day,  and  there  join  company  with 
our  comrades.  Our  enemies  will  never  suspect  such  an 
enterprise.  Before  they  shall  have  time  to  place  them- 
selves in  array  of  battle,  we  will  fall  upon  them  with  all 
our  might,  and  my  heart  assures  me  that  we  shall  have 
the  victory."  "  Had  one  given  the  duke  an  hundred 
thousand  crowns,"  says  our  chronicler,  "  he  could  not  have 
been  more  delighted."  "  On  my  honor,"  he  answered 
with  a  smile,  "  to  you,  my  Lord  of  Bayard,  nothing  seems 
impossible.  I  think  with  you;  and  if  our  friends  here 
concur  in  your  suggestions,  I  doubt  not  that  we  shall  be 
able  to  deal  with  the  enemy  eve*  as  you  propose.  For 
my  part,  I  earnestly  hope  that  they  may  concur  with  us." 
And  thus  saying,  with  a  courtly  grace,  this  brave  and 
accomplished  prince  raised  the  cap  from  his  head  in 
salutation. 

The  captains  generally  agreed  in  the  wisdom  of  the 
suggestion.  The  plan  of  Bayard  was  adopted,  and  the 
preparations  begun.  The  troops  were  put  in  readiness, 
boats  were  procured  without  noise,  and  the  infantry  em- 
barked  at  dusk  of  evening.     The   cavalry,  accompanied 


BAYARD  PLANS  THE  BATTLE.  223 

by  the  duke  in  person,  set  out  as  soon  as  night  offered 
adequate  concealment.  The  weather  was  bad,  and  the 
roads ;  but  fortunately,  the  guides  were  good,  and  all 
parties  in  excellent  spirits.  The  calculations  of  Bayard 
were  verified  by  the  results.  Half  an  hour  before  day 
the  cavalry  reached  the  pass,  where  the  vessels  with  the 
foot  soon  after  joined  them.  It  was  broad  daylight  before 
the  whole  were  prepared  for  moving.  Then  sullenly  came 
the  booming  of  the  cannon,  announcing  the  commencement 
of  the  assault  on  the  part  of  the  besiegers.  La  Bastia  was 
not  yet  lost.  The  troops  were  within  a  mile  of  the  enemy, 
when  Bayard  thus  addressed  their  captains : — "Gentlemen, 
it  has  been  often  and  well  said  that  he  who  makes  no 
account  of  his  enemy  is  a  madman.  We  are  now  hard 
upon  ours,  and  they  have  no  less  than  three  to  one  against 
us.  If  they  knew  of  our  enterprise,  we  should  doubtless 
have  much  trouble  at  their  hands,  for  they  have  artillery 
and  we  none.  They  tell  me,  moreover,  that  the  troops 
before  La  Bastia  are  the  very  flower  of  the  Pope's  army. 
To  do  well,  therefore,  we  must  endeavor,  if  we  can,  to 
take  them  unprepared.  I  am  of  opinion  that  the  Bastard 
Du  Fay,  my  standard-bearer,  who  is  well  skilled  in  such 
matters,  should  go,  with  fifteen  or  twenty  horse,  in  the 
direction  by  which  the  enemy  came,  and  give  them  an 
alarm.  Captain  Pierrepont  shall  accompany  him  at  the 
distance  of  a  bow-shot  with  an  hundred  gendarms,  to  succor 
him  when  he  is  repulsed.  With  these  we  will  send  Cap- 
tain Zemberg  with  his  eight  hundred  Swiss.  You,  my 
lord,"  said  he  to  the  duke;  "My  Lord  of  Montoisin ;  the 
gentlemen,  my  companions,  and  myself,  will  go  straight  to 
the  leaguer,  where  I  will  proceed  first  to  raise  the  alarm. 
If  Du  Fay  shall  have  done  that  beforehand,  and  they  all 
crowd  toward  him,  we  enclose  them  between  him  and  us. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  give  the  first  alarm.  Captain 
Pierrepont,  with  his  Swiss,  shall  do  as  much  on  their 
side.     By  these  means  we  shall  so  astound  and  bewilder 


224  THE    SURPRISE. 

them  that  they  will  imagine  us  to  be  three  times  as  numer- 
ous as  we  are.  Above  all,  let  every  one  of  our  trumpets 
sound  on  approach. 

By  this  time,  it  must  be  remarked,  the  wonderful  cour- 
age, conduct,  enterprise  and  long  experience  of  our  good 
knight,  had  rendered  him  an  authority  wherever  he  was 
known.  Familiar  with  the  great  events  of  modem  times, 
he  seems  to  have  studied  diligently  the  ancient.  He  was, 
according  to  the  chronicles,  a  very  record  of  battles,  not 
merely  the  gross  event,  but  the  details ;  and  with  these,  all 
the  turning  circumstances  and  the  peculiar  individual  policy 
by  which  the  issue  had  been  probably  effected.  Enough  that, 
in  this  instance,  all  who  heard  him  defeiTed  to  his  opinion. 
His  plan  of  operations  was  instantly  agreed  on,  and  the 
two  detachments,  now  within  a  mile  of  the  leaguer,  moved 
each  in  the  direction  assigned  it — the  one  under  Du  Fay 
and  Pierrepont,  with  the  Swiss,  taking  the  road  which  the 
enemy  had  pursued  ;  the  other  proceeding  directly  to  La 
Bastia,  which  they  approached  within  cannon-shot  unper- 
ceived.  The  alarm  was  raised  by  Du  Fay,  sharply  and 
vigorously,  startling  the  Pope's  army  with  astonishment,  if 
not  dismay.  Arming  in  hot  haste,  and  mounting  their  horse, 
they  proceeded  at  once  to  the  place  of  uproar.  Their  foot, 
compactly  marshalled  were  moved  in  close  order  in  the 
same  direction.  Du  Fay  was  driven  before  their  horse  as 
had  been  anticipated  ;  but  PieiTepont  came  to  the  rescue, 
encountered  them  fiercely  with  his  gendarms,  and  beat 
them  back  upon  their  infantry.  These,  marching  in  order 
of  battle,  and  to  the  number  of  five  or  six  thousand,  now 
I  crossed  weapons  with  the  eight  hundred  Swiss  foot-soldiers, 
who  came  to  the  support  of  Pierrepont.  The  Swiss,  sustained 
by  the  gendarms,  made  good  fight,  but  must  have  yielded 
before  the  numerous  body  which  was  opposed  to  them,  but 
for  the  timely  arrival  of  the  duke,  the  lords  of  Montoisin, 
Le  Lude,  Fontrailles,  and  the  *'Good  Knight"  Bayard. 
These,  with  the  horse  and  two  thousand  foot,  operating 


THE    VICTORY.  225 

upon  the  rear  of  the  enemy,  produced  such  a  diversion  as 
relieved  the  command  of  Pierrepont  from  the  immense 
pressure  which  must  have  borne  it  down.  Charging  a 
troop  of  three  or  four  hundred  horse  which  seemed  dispos- 
ed to  rally,  Bayard  and  Fontrailles  overthrew  them  with  a 
single  rush.  The  fight  lasted  for  an  hour.  The  day  re- 
mained with  the  French.  The  slaughter  was  terrible ;  as 
how  should  it  be  otherwise — men  fighting  hand  to  hand, 
and  at  a  period  when  mutual  recriminations  had  banished 
mercy  wholly  from  the  bosom  of  vsar.  More  than  four 
thousand  foot-soldiers  perished  of  the  Pope's  army,  sixty 
horse  were  slain,  and  three  hundred  taken,  together  with 
all  the  baggage  and  artillery.  The  French,  loaded  with 
spoils,  returned  to  their  garrison  in  Ferrara,  having  taken 
care  to  strengthen  that  of  La  Bastia  against  future  sur- 
prises. The  event  of  the  day  was  greatly  to  the  increase 
of  Bayard's  reputation.  It  had  shown  him  fully  equal  to  the 
command  of  an  aiTny.  Hitherto  he  had  been  content  to 
lead  a  squadron.  He  had  conceived  the  whole  scheme, 
when  all  schemes  seemed  hopeless  and  his  general  was 
desponding;  and  it  was  one  equally  simple  in  its  details, 
and  sagacious  in  its  correct  appreciation  of  the  views  of  the 
enemy  whom  it  was  designed  to  overthrow.  But  it  was 
not  because  of  the  conception  only,  that  he  won  the 
applause  of  all.  His  conduct  and  spirit  on  the  field,  always 
timely  and  always  efficient,  had  contributed,  in  large  de- 
gree, to  render  his  scheme  successful.  The  Duke  of  Feira- 
ra,  for  himself  and  people,  gave  him  public  thanks.  Nor 
was  the  duchess,  his  fair  bride,  at  all  slow  to  recognize  the 
superior  merit  of  one  who  was  the  pride  of  European  chival- 
ry. This  lady  was  the  daughter  of  Galeazzo  Sforza,  duke 
of  Milan,  and  worthy  of  her  birth  and  station.  She  was  not 
only  one  of  the  most  lovely,  but  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
of  the  ladies  of  her  time — even  more  remarkable  by  her 
talents  than  her  beauties,  and  quite  as  rare  an  instance  of 
learning  as  of  talent  among  her  sex.     She  spoke  and  wrote 


226  THE  DUCHESS  OP  FERRARA. 

with  equal  ease  and  elegance  in  Greek,  Latin,  French  and 
Italian;  and  was  in  every  way  well  fitted  to  preside  at 
noble  assemblies  which  brought  together  the  grace  and 
loveliness,  the  wit  and  valor,  of  more  than  two  of  the  lead- 
ing states  of  Christendom.  She  did  not  stiive  vainly  to 
acknowledge  the  worth  of  those  who  brought  triumph  and 
safety  to  her  house  and  husband.  Could  we  but  procure  a 
picture,  though  faint,  of  those  gorgeous  assemblages  of 
chivalry  at  her  court — the  superb  entertainments,  the  fetes 
fittoresque — the  thousand  various  divertissements  which 
followed  upon  the  vicrtory  at  La  Bastia  !*  What  should  we 
now  give  for  such  details,  from  the  old  chroniclers  of  the 
doings  of  the  court,  as  minutely  given  as  those  which  they 
render  to  us  of  the  camp.  But  they  were  a  dry,  ascetic 
race — stern  and  savage  amid  all  their  courtliness,  who — 
even  in  their  loves,  dreamed  rather  of  making  a  mistress 
known  to  their  rivals  than  of  properly  enshrining  her  in 
their  own  affections. 

*  Guicciardini  allows  the  French  to  have  obtained  all  the  advantages  ia 
this  victory  at  La  Bastia,  calling  it  a  rout  rather  than  a  combat ;  but  he 
diminishes  the  importance  of  the  event,  which,  by  other  historians,  is  re 
duced  to  an  affair  between  detachments. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

If  the  victory  at  La  Bastia  brought  joy  and  exultation  to 
the  court  of  Fen-ara,  it  was  productive  of  an  equal  degree 
of  rage  and  disappointment  in  the  bosom  of  Pope  Julius. 
He  w^as  nearly  beside  himself  when  the  tidings  reached  him 
at  Mirandola;  and  nothing  but  the  most  earnest  exhortations 
of  his  chief  officers  succeeded  in  dissuading  him  from  laying 
siege  instantly  to  Ferrara  itself.  They,  however,  of  less  im- 
peiious  will  and  less  prevailing  passions  than  the  Holy  Fa- 
ther, weie  better  prepared  to  see  the  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers of  such  a  leaguer.  They  described  to  him  the  strength 
of  the  place,  how  well  it  was  defended,  how  amply  provis- 
ioned, and,  in  particular,  with  what  a  host  they  would  have 
to  contend  in  the  person  of  Bayard  alone,  who  began,  about 
this  time,  to  acquire  the  appellation  of  The  Invincible ! 
Satisfied  that  his  policy  required  that  he  should  avoid  the 
perils  and  the  expense  of  a  siege,  he  resorted  to  the  hum- 
bler arts  of  corruption.  There  were  persons  in  Fen*ara, 
citizens,  and  of  good  family,  who,  as  the  Pope  well  knew, 
were  not  incorruptible.  To  these  he  despatched  his  emis- 
saries, at  successive  periods,  plying  them  with  arguments 
and  bribes,  and  suggesting  schemes  for  obtaining  the  pos- 
session of  the  gates  of  the  place.  But  our  Frenchmen  kept 
too  good  a  watch  for  the  success  of  these  practices.  The 
emissaiies,  six  or  eight  of  them,  were  detected  and  hung, 
and  the  suspected  citizens  cast  into  prison. 

Infirmity  of  purpose  was  not  the  fault  in  the  character  of 
Julius.  Baffled  in  all  his  plans,  he  did  not  forego  his  object. 
He  now  conceived  a  scheme  much  more  in  keeping  with 
well  known  Italian  policy.    There  was,  in  the  duchy  of 


228  MESSIRE    AUGUSTINO    GUERLO. 

Milan,  a  gentleman  of  Lodi,  named  Messire  Augustino  Gucr- 
lo.  This  person,  though  a  subject  at  the  time  of  the  King 
of  France,  was  yet  a  creature  of  the  Pope — a  great  schemer, 
subtle,  intriguing  ever,  and  with  a  passion  for  all  sorts  of 
treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils.  This  passion,  at  a  future 
day,  cost  him  his  head,  which  he  lost  to  Stuart  d'Au- 
bigny,  at  Brescia.  But  while  he  was  still  in  possession  of 
this  treasure-house  of  plot  and  policy,  the  Pope  called  him 
to  his  service,  and,  giving  him  his  lessons,  sent  him  to  Fer- 
rara.  There  he  was  empowered  to  propose  to  the  duke, 
secretly,  that  the  war  should  cease  between  them — that  he 
should  send  the  French  away  and  become  the  ally  of  the 
Church,  and,  in  return  for  these  sei^vices,  he  was  to  receive 
one  of  the  Pope's  nieces  for  his  eldest  son,  while  the  duke 
himself  should  be  made  gonfalonier  and  captain-general  of 
the  troops  of  Rome.  The  French  dismissed  from  the  service 
of  the  duke,  and  sent  from  Ferrara,  were  to  be  set  upon  by 
the  Pope's  amiy  and  easily  destroyed  by  overwhelming 
numbers  and  destitution.  They  could  have  passed  into  no 
place  from  which,  unless  by  the  most  miraculous  good  for- 
tune, they  could  have  escaped  the  clutches  of  their  enemy. 
Such  was  the  scheme  of  the  Pope,  and  such  his  offer  to 
the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  through  Messire  Augustino  Guerlo. 
This  gentleman  made  his  way  to  Ferrara,  and  laid  his  pro- 
posals before  the  person  to  whom  he  had  been  sent.  He 
was  received  with  forbearance,  and  even  kindness.  The 
duke,  who,  in  the  acceptation  of  that  time,  was  a  very  hon- 
orable person,  felt  the  claims  of  the  French  upon  him;  and, 
while  he  pretended  to  give  a  favorable  hearing  to  the  Pope's 
embassador,  he  secretly  and  firmly  resolved  against  the 
treacherous  proceeding.  He  regaled  Messire  Augustino 
hospitably,  then  locking  him  up  in  one  of  the  apartments 
of  the  palace,  went  to  communicate  with  the  Chevalier 
Bayard  at  his  lodgings.  Bayard  was  now  in  sole  command 
of  the  French  at  Ferrara.  His  superior,  the  "  Gentle  Lord" 
of  Montoisin,  had  not  long  survived  the  battle  of  La  Bastia. 


TREACHERY  229 

He  was  a  very  noble  and  accomplished  gentleman,  who 
had  done  gallant  deeds  in  Picardy,  Bretagne,  Naples,  and 
Lombardy — "a  very  merlin  was  he,"  quoth  the  "Loyal 
Servant" — "  unremittingly  vigilant."  He  was  greatly  the 
friend  of  Bayard,  by  whom  his  death  was  honestly  and 
earnestly  lamented. 

The  Duke  of  Ferrara  communicaXed  to  our  knight,  with 
great  frankness,  the  whole  message  and  proposal  of  the 
Pope.  We  do  not  see  that  this  proposal  contemplated  a 
more  extreme  degree  of  treachery  than  was  common  to  the 
princes  of  the  time  ;  but  Bayard  heard  the  story  with  indig- 
nation ;  and,  crossing  himself  with  all  the  devoutness  of  a 
good  Catholic,  declared  that  he  would  not  believe  that  so 
wicked  a  conception  could  possibly  have  found  its  way  into 
the  heart  of  the  Holy  Father.  But  the  duke's  assurances 
were  positive ;  and,  to  satisfy  our  hero,  he  proposed  that 
Bayard  should  occupy  a  closet,  whence  every  thing  might 
be  heard,  while  the  emissary  was  made  once  more  to  go 
over  all  the  particulars  of  his  communication.  But  the 
latter  was  satisfied,  however  reluctantly,  of  the  truth  of 
the  narration,  without  rendering  necessary  any  resort  to 
this  espionage.  The  duke  concluded  with  warm  declara- 
tions of  his  obligations  to  the  French,  and  assured  our 
knight  that  he  would  sooner  be  torn  asunder  by  wild  horses 
than  yield  to  any  such  dishonorable  suggestion.  Bayard 
professed  himself  satisfied,  and  the  duke  then  proposed  that 
the  shearer  should  go  home  shorn ;  in  other  words,  that  the 
treachery  of  the  Pope  might  be  made  to  recoil  upon  him- 
self, and  the  emissary  whom  he  had  sent  should  be  em- 
ployed as  an  instrument  against  him.  The  general  propo- 
sition necessarily  pleased  our  hero,  who,  as  a  master  of 
stratagem  in  war,  saw  something  commendable  in  the  pro- 
cess of  turning  one's  weapons  against  himself,  and  he  gave 
his  assent  to  the  proposition  without  scruple.  Upon  which 
the  duke  disappeared.  Returning  to  Messire  Augustine, 
he  called  him  to  a  second  conference.     Here  it  was  Italian 


2'SO  HOW    ANSWERED. 

against  Italian— the  subtle  pupils  of  the  same  school  oppo- 
sing their  kindred  wits.  After  several  preliminaries,  all  of 
which  aimed  only  at  an  opportune  introduction  of  his  chief 
policy,  the  duke  reminded  the  emissary  that  the  Pope  was 
not  a  person  to  be  trusted ;  that  he,  at  least,  had  no  reason 
to  confide  in  the  assurances  of  one  who  had  so  frequently 
threatened  his  life — who,  it  was  well  known,  was  the  per- 
son whom  he  was  most  hated  in  the  world,  and  for  whose 
territories  and  cities  Julius  had  the  most  longing  appetite. 
"  Nextly,"  said  the  duke,  **  what  should  I  gain  by  telling 
the  Lord  of  Bayard  that  I  have  no  farther  need  of  him  and 
his  companions  1  Will  he  not  suspect  me,  and  hath  he  not 
a  greater  force  in  this  town  than  I  myself?  Will  he  not 
hold  his  ground  till  he  can  communicate  to  the  King  of 
France,  or  to  his  lieutenant-general,  this  side  of  the  Alps  ] 
And  will  it  not  be  that,  in  making  the  Pope  my  ally,  I 
bring  these  both  upon  my  head  V 

The  reasoning  of  the  duke  was  irresistible,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded after  this  fashion — "  And  now,  Messire  Augustino, 
if  I  find  it  impossible  to  rely  on  the  good  faith  of  the  Pope, 
so  will  it  be  your  impossibility  also.  You  know  this  Julius, 
as  well  as  I,  to  be  of  a  terrible  nature,  choleric  and  vin- 
dictive, and  so  ti-eacherous,  that  it  is  a  sure  peril  to  have 
had  his  confidence  in  any  affairs  of  secrecy.  Whatever  he 
may  show  you  now  of  his  secret  policy,  will  he  punish 
you  for  by  some  cruel  trick  hereafter.  This,  surely,  is  well 
known  to  you ;  but  even  supposing  him  faithful  to  you  so 
long  as  he  lives,  what  will  be  your  fortune  when  he  dies  1 
No  pope  harbors  or  keeps  the  sei-vants  of  him  whom  he 
succeeds.  You  have  no  chance  of  favor,  but  rather  the 
contrary,  from  any  who  shall  become  his  successor." 

These  were  melancholy  truths,  which  the  emissary  was 
compelled  to  acknowledge.  The  duke  continued.  He 
opened  a  more  pleasing  prospect  to  Messire  Augustino : 
"You  know  me,  and  know  that  I  am  rich.  Now  were  you 
to  do  me  any  service  in  helping  to  rid  me  of  this  my  worst 


BAYARDS    SIMPLICITY.  231 

enemy,  you  shall  not  only  receive  a  handsome  present,  but  so 
good  an  income,  that  you  should  live  at  ease  all  your  life  after. 

**  The  result  of  these  overtures  was,  that  the  Pope's 
agent  was  brought  over  to  the  duke's  sei'vice.  The  bait 
was  iiTesistible ;  and  the  base  and  covetous  scoundrel,  de- 
claring his  intimacy  with  Julius,  and  the  facilities  which  he 
possessed,  through  this  intimacy,  for  pei-petrating  any 
crime,  offered  to  take  him  off  by  poison  in  the  space 
of  eight  days.  The  price  of  blood  was  something  larger 
than  that  required  by  Judas.  The  deed  being  accom- 
plished, he  was  to  receive  two  thousand  ducats  in  hand, 
and  five  hundred  a  year  afterwards  for  life.  The  treaty 
made,  the  excellent  duke,  never  doubting  but  that  he  had 
performed  a  highly  praiseworthy  action,  went  out  to  com- 
municate with  our  chevalier.  Bayard  was  travei^sing  the 
city  ramparts,  amusing  himself  in  watching  the  process  of 
opening  a  loop-hole  in  the  walls.  Seeing  the  duke  ap- 
proach, he  advanced  to  meet  him.  The  latter  took  him  by 
the  hand,  and  leading  him  off  from  all  other  persons,  said 
to  him — "  My  Lord  of  Bayard,  it  is  very  sure  that  the 
traitor  will  always,  in  the  end,  be  betrayed.  Thus  it  hap- 
pens that  the  treachery  which  the  Pope  has  conceived 
against  us,  will  fall  upon  him.  This  fellow  have  I  won  to 
our  cause,  so  that  he  will  do  unto  the  Pope  that  which  he 
desired  to  have  done  to  you.  Messire  Augustino  Guerlo 
hath  assured  me  that  the  Pope  can  not,  at  farthest,  live 
eight  days  longer." 

Bayard,  in  his  innocence  and  simplicity  of  character,  did 
not  really  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  duke,  or  desired 
to  discourage  him  in  the  proceeding  by  a  refusal  to  under- 
stand or  to  conceive  of  such  a  treachery.  His  answer, 
which  declared  his  astonishment,  must  have  astonished  the 
subtler  Italian.  **  Now,  how  can  he  know  this,  my  lord  ] 
Is  he  in  the  secrets  of  Providence  1  Hath  he  spoken  with 
God  ]"  The  duke  answered  him,  significantly — ''  Never 
you  mind — so  shall  it  happen  !"     Then,  as  Bayard  pressed 


232  bayard's  integrity. 

him  farther,  he  told  how  the  emissary  of  the  Pope  had  en- 
gaged to  poison  him  within  the  designated  space  of  time. 
The  whole  heart  of  Bayard  recoiled  at  the  revelation. 
His  idea  of  policy  and  stratagem  was  of  that  only  which 
should  obtain  a  fair  field,  and  no  favor  from  his  enemy. 
To  beguile  him  from  his  fortress, — to  gain  entrance  with- 
in, or  to  persuade  him  to  forego  his  advantages, — these 
were  objects,  to  attain  which,  chivalry  and  war  equally 
j  ustified  a  resort  to  ordinary  artifices — to  the  employment  of 
the  secret  agent — to  the  corruption  of  a  sentinel ;  but  these 
artifices  themselves  were  only  sanctioned  by  a  readiness,  on 
the  part  of  him  who  employed  them,  to  incur  the  peiils  of 
the  actual  conflict  to  which  they  were  expected  to  conduct. 
Poisoning  and  stabbing  were  not  among  the  virtues  of  such 
a  w^arfare.  The  stern  honor  of  Bayard  instantly  spoke  out 
with  all  the  eager  impetuosity  of  his  character,  as  he  found, 
not  only  what  was  the  stratagem  designed  by  the  emissary, 
but  that  the  Duke  of  Ferrara  was  really  anxious  to  employ 
its  agency. 

"  My  lord  duke,  I  can  not  suppose  it  possible  that  a 
prince  so  honorable  as  yourself  will  consent  to  so  black  a 
treachery.  Could  I  believe  it  possible,  I  swear  by  the  life 
of  my  soul,  I  should,  ere  this  night  were  over,  reveal  it  to 
the  Pope  myself." 

The  duke  expostulated.  "  He  would  have  done  as  much 
for  us." 

"  I  care  not  for  that.  I,  at  least,  will  not  consent  that  he 
be  murdered  thus." 

The  duke  shrugged  his  shoulders,  then  spitting  upon  the 
ground,  said,  "  My  Lord  of  Bayard,  would  that  I  could  dis- 
pose of  all  my  enemies  as  easily  as  that !  Howbeit,  since 
tlie  thing  is  not  to  your  liking,  it  shall  be  given  up  ;  but, 
God  help  us  !  we  shall  both  repent  of  our  forbearance  here- 
after." 

"  Not  so,  please  God  !"  answered  Bayard.  '*  Nay,  far- 
ther, my  lord  duke,  yt)u  will  do  well,  and  I  entreat  you, 


ITALIAN    SOLDIERY.  233 

to  deliver  into  my  hands  the  fellow  who  proffers  to  do  this 
beautiful  piece  of  work ;  and  if  I  have  him  not  hanging 
from  these  battlements  within  this  hour,  let  me  hang  there 
in  his  stead." 

But  the  duke  had  given  to  Messire  Augustino  Guerlo  a 
promise  of  safety,  and  he  dismissed  him  after  formally  re- 
leasing him  from  the  engagement  which  the  virtuous  spirit 
of  Bayard  had  refused  to  sanction.  He  returned  to  the 
Pope,  who  was  suffered  to  survive  the  period  to  w^hich  his 
career  was  limited — who  never  appears  to  have  conjectured 
the  deep  treachery  of  his  embassador,  and  how  much  he 
was  indebted  to  the  honorable  courage  of  our  hero.  It 
does  not  appear  that  the  Duke  of  Ferrara  felt  less  kirw31y 
to  our  "  good  knight"  because  of  the  inevitable  rebuke 
which  was  conveyed  by  the  disagreement  of  the  latter  to 
the  criminal  policy  which  the  foiTner  was  prepared  to  adopt. 
We  are  not  told  how  long  he  remained  in  Ferrara  after 
this  event.  The  place  was  relieved  from  present  dangers, 
the  Pope  repairing  to  Bologna,  for  the  purpose  of  meeting 
embassadors  from  the  different  potentates,  with  whom  he 
was  to  officiate  as  mediator.  He  was  not  the  person  for 
such  an  office,  and  his  presence  only  served  to  kindle  new 
animosities.  The  negotiation  failed  entirely,  and,  as  soon 
as  the  result  was  known,  the  Marshal  Trivulzio,  at  the 
head  of  a  large  body  of  troops,  hastened  toward  Bologna. 
With  these  troops  went  Bayard.  Mirandola  was  captured 
and  restored  to  the  noble  and  gallant  countess  who  had 
fought  for  it  so  well.  Bologna  was  yielded,  a  bloodless  vic- 
tory, to  the  arms  of  the  French  ;  the  Pope  narrowly  making 
his  escape  to  Ravenna.  He  had  faith  neither  in  his  own 
troops  nor  in  the  people  of  the  country.  The  former  were 
by  no  means  prepared  to  fight  the  French,  and  the  latter 
were  pleased  to  welcome  them.  So  worthless  were  the 
men-at-arms  of  the  Pope,  that  one  Frenchman  captured 
five  or  six,  and  can'ied  them  off  safely  ;  while  an  instance 
is  given  of  one  La  Bauline,  an  invalid  soldier,  with  a  leg  of 


234  GRATZ    AND    GOUETZ. 

wood,  who  took  three  prisoners  and  safely  bound  them  to- 
gether. The  only  fighting  that  was  done,  took  place  under 
Bayard,  who  led  the  horse,  and  who  distinguished  himself 
greatly  by  the  surprise  and  in  the  assault.  The  Marshal 
Tiivulzio  declared  at  supper,  on  the  evening  of  the  victory, 
that,  under  God,  the  success  was  all  due  to  the  Lord  of 
Bayard.  The  Pope  lost  every  thing, — bag,  baggage,  tents, 
arms,  artillery,  and  ammunition. 

In  Bologna,  our  good  knight  was  not  suffered  to  remain 
idle.  The  Emperor  Maximilian  was  once  more  in  trouble 
and  needing  assistance,  or  rather  once  more  ambitious  of 
conquest,  and  anxious  to  spare  his  own  levies.  The  coun- 
try of  Friuli,  a  beautiful  region,  held  by  the  Venetians,  lay 
temptingly  before  his  eyes.  It  was  easily  accessible  fi'ora 
Germany,  and  was  desirable  on  many  accounts.  The  King 
of  France  had  no  reason  to  censure  the  cupidity  which 
sought  its  gi'atification  at  the  expense  of  his  enemies  ;  and,  in 
answer  to  his  entreaties,  Chabannes,  lord  de  la  Palisse,  was 
sent  to  his  assistance  with  eight  thousand  foot  and  twelve 
hundred  horse.  Chabannes  knew  too  well  the  resources  of 
Bayard  to  fail  to  procure  his  companionship.  The  French 
found  the  army  of  the  emperor  at  Verona,  from  which  place 
they  proceeded  to  besiege  Treviso,  where  nothing  was 
effected.  From  this  place,  taking  with  him  the  gendarais 
of  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  and  a  company  under  Fontrailles, 
Bayard  was  sent  against  Gratz  and  Goretz,  which  he  cap- 
tured. Having  garrisoned  these  places  for,  and  with  troops 
of,  the  emperor,  he  returned  to  the  camp,  where,  through 
the  imbecility  of  Maximilian's  officers,  or  of  himself,  noth- 
ing had  been  done,  and  all  was  distress  and  confusion.  The 
troops  were  neglected,  and  left  to  starve  for  six  days,  without 
bread  or  wine,  and  in  a  sickly  country.  Four  thousand  of 
the  French  perished  through  disease.  Chabannes,  at  length, 
grew  impatient  of  inactivity  and  at  the  condition  of  his 
troops.  He  became  earnest  to  retuni  to  Bologna ;  but  this 
was  resisted  by  tlie  emperor's  officers,  between  whom  and 


GASTON    DE    FOIX.  235 

the  French  captain  high  words  follo^/ved.  The  result  was  the 
withdrawal  of  the  French  troops,  who  removed  to  St.  Boni- 
facio, a  village  which  we  remember  as  one  from  which, 
during  the  previous  campaign  of  the  German  emperor,  the 
Venetians  were  wont  to  make  their  most  vigorous  sallies. 
Here  they  remained  a  short  time  before  rejoining  the  main 
army  of  France  in  Italy.  This  they  found  in  great  distress 
on  account  of  the  recent  death  of  the  generalissimo,  the 
Grand-Master  de  Chaumont.  He  was  reputed  to  be  one  of  the 
ablest  captains  in  the  French  army.  He  was  succeeded  in 
command  by  the  famous  Gaston  de  Foix,duke  of  Nemours, 
then  no  more  than  twenty-one.  The  renown  of  this  remark- 
able youth,  who  perished  before  his  prime,  is  matter  of  history. 
His  bravery  and  sagacity,  his  chivalrous  spiiit  and  acute 
intelligence,  have  secured  him  an  enduring  reputation. 
That  he  cherished,  loved,  and  deferred  to  Bayard,  whom  he 
might  well  have  chosen  as  his  model,  is  not  the  least  proof 
of  his  sagacity  and  worth. 

It  was  during  a  brief  respite  from  the  actual  pressure 
and  emergency  of  war,  that  the  Duke  de  Nemours  paid  a 
visit  of  state  and  courtesy  to  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Fer- 
rara,  in  their  city  of  that  name.  He  was  accompanied  by 
Bayard  and  other  of  his  captains,  and  was  received  with 
those  civilities  and  entertainments  which  nobody  knew  bet- 
ter how  to  give  than  the  noble  Lady  of  the  House  of  Fer- 
rara.  Among  these  entertainments  was  one  of  a  less  festive 
character  and  occasion  than  the  rest.  This  was  a  duel  be- 
tween two  Spaniards,  one  of  whom  was  named  Santa  Cruz, 
and  the  other  the  Seiior  Azevedo.  The  former  had  been  a 
colonel  of  foot  in  the  service  of  the  Pope ;  the  other  had 
held  a  command  in  the  same  troops  and  service.  The  duel 
arose  from  an  assertion,  made  by  Azevedo,  that  Santa  Cruz 
had  endeavored  to  compass  his  death  by  treachery.  They 
were  both  of  good  blood  and  honorable  fame  ;  and  the  ap- 
plication to  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  to  sanction  the  fight  by 
his  presence  and  that  of  his  gentlemen,  was  graciously  an- 


236  COMBAT    A    l'oUTRANCE. 

swered  in  the  affirmative,  after  the  cause  of  quarrel  had 
been  duly  made  known.  The  lists  were  prepared  before 
the  palace  of  Ferrara,  and  the  champions  appeared  at  the 
appointed  time,  both  well  attended  by  men-at-arms  and  gen- 
tlemen, from  one  to  two  hundred  in  number.  Though  the 
terms  of  the  fight  were  "  to  the  uttermost^''  in  other  words, 
though  the  fight  was  a  deadly  one,  the  fair  dames  of  Ferra- 
ra were  spectators.  The  opponents  were  provided  with 
poniards,  rapiers,  and  secrettes,  which  are  desciibed  as  a 
kind  of  axe.  Both  fell  upon  their  knees,  making  their 
prayers  to  God,  and — a  commentary  upon  the  faithlessness 
of  the  age — their  persons  were  examined  to  see  if  they 
bore  any  secret  armor  or  w^eapons  beyond  those  with  which 
they  had  been  furnished.  This  done,  the  field  was  cleared, 
none  remaining  but  the  combatants,  their  seconds,  and 
Knight  Bayard,  whom,  as  one  that  understood  such  matters 
much  better  than  any  man  living,  the  Duke  of  Ferrara  had 
appointed  master  and  keeper  of  the  field.  Then  the  herald 
cried  aloud,  making  the  usual  proclamation,  that  no  one  was 
to  interfere  between  the  combatants,  or  in  any  way  to  coun- 
sel, assist,  or  advise  them — and  this  warning  extended  even 
to  an  order  against  spitting  or  coughing,  or  the  slightest 
signs,  by  which  either  of  the  parties  might  be  supposed  to 
be  influenced,  favorably  or  otherwise. 

These  preliminaries  at  an  end,  the  champions  confront- 
ed each  other  for  the  deadly  combat.  Deadly,  with  such 
weapons,  it  might  well  be  looked  to  be,  as  neither  of  them 
wore  defensive  armor  of  any  kind.  Azevedo  held  his  rapier 
in  his  right  and  poniard  in  the  left  hand.  Santa  Cruz  kept 
his  poniard  in  the  sheath,  wielding  the  rapier  only.  And 
thus  they  began  the  fight.  Both  were  active,  alert,  and 
good  swordsmen,  and  the  conflict  promised  to  be  a  vigor- 
ous one.  After  several  thrusts,  Santa  Cruz  made  a  dex- 
trous pass  at  the  face  of  his  adversary,  wliich  Azevedo  as 
doxtrously  parrying,  his  rapier  in  descending  pierced  the 
upper  part  of  his  enemy's  thigh  to  tlie  bone.     Santa  Cruz 


THE    ISSUE.  237 

would  have  darted  forward  to  avenge  his  hurt,  but  fell  in 
doing  so.  Azevedo  then  approached  him,  and,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  a  conqueror,  cried  to  him,  "  Yield  Santa  Cruz,  or 
I  slay  thee."  The  latter  made  no  answer,  but,  sitting  up- 
right, with  sword  extended,  betrayed  a  settled  detennina- 
tion  to  perish  rather  than  surrender.  Azevedo,  magnani- 
mously, then  proposed  that  he  should  rise  ;  for  that  he  could 
not  strike  him  in  that  position.  The  wounded  man  accord- 
ingly struggled  once  more  forward  on  his  feet,  and  made 
at  his  enemy  ;  but  the  latter  putting  by  his  thrust,  Santa 
Cruz  fell  again,  and  this  time,  with  his  face  to  the  earth. 
The  victor  raised  his  sword  to  smite  off  his  head,  which  he 
might  easily  have  done,  but  his  generosity  arrested  the 
blow.  Still,  though  summoned,  Santa  Cruz  refused  to  sub- 
mit or  declare  himself  conquered.  This  stubbornness  would 
have  been  fatal  to  him,  as,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
time,  the  successful  champion  was  required  to  bring  the 
matter  to  an  issue,  either  in  the  confession  or  the  death 
of  his  foe.  The  Duchess  of  Ferrara  then  interposed  with 
the  Duke  de  Nemours,  with  clasped  hands  and  pleading 
eyes,  that  the  warder  should  be  thrown  down  and  the  com- 
batants withdrawn.  But  this  was  not  within  his  jurisdic- 
tion. "  Madame,"  said  he,  "  for  your  sake  I  should  be 
well  pleased  to  do  so  ;  but  I  can  not  rightfully,  and  ought 
not  to  interfere  with  the  conqueror," 

Meanwhile,  Santa  Cruz  was  losing  all  the  blood  in  his 
body,  and,  though  his  conqueror  forbore  any  farther  stroke, 
the  wound  would  be  fatal  if  he  were  not  instantly  relieved. 
The  Prior  of  Messina,  one  of  his  seconds,  then  said  to  Aze- 
vedo, "  Senior,  I  know  the  spirit  of  Santa  Cruz  will  not  suf- 
fer him  to  sun-ender.  He  will  die  first,  and,  since  there  is 
no  other  remedy,  I  yield  myself  your  prisoner  in  his  place." 
The  pledge  was  accepted,  and,  falling  upon  his  knees,  the 
successful  duellist  uttered  his  thanks  to  the  Deity  for  hav- 
ing spared  and  crowned  him  with  triumph,  for  having — 
violated  his  most  righteous  laws. 


238  THE    ARMOR    OF    THE    VANUUltiHED. 

The  surgeon  was  now  peiTnitted  to  approach  the  wound- 
ed man.  The  flowing  blood  was  staunched,  and  his  people 
bore  him  from  the  field  to  his  lodgings.  But,  in  doing  so, 
they  violated  one  of  the  laws  of  the  combat.  They  car- 
ried with  him  the  weapons  of  war,  which  were  properly 
the  prize  of  the  conqueror.  This  seems  to  have  been  the 
case  even  where  the  combat  was  on  the  point  of  honor, 
and  when  it  was  urged  a  Voutrance, — a  seeming  anomaly, 
since  the  objects  of  the  tournament  were  essentially  differ- 
ent, and  since  the  spoils  of  the  combat  can  scarcely  be  a 
consideration  with  him  who  goes  into  it  to  rescue  his  good 
name  from  reproach,  and  with  every  sensibility  outraged 
by  indignity  and  wrong.  Such,  however,  was  the  rule  at 
this  period  in  the  courts  of  chivalry,  and  it  was  one  which 
the  successful  party  tenaciously  insisted  upon.  Azevedo 
sent  to  demand  the  arms  of  Santa  Cruz,  but  his  followers 
refused  to  give  them  up.  He  complained,  accordingly,  to 
the  Duke  de  Nemours,  who  referred  it  to  Bayard,  by 
whom  it  was  ruled  that  if  the  weapons  were  not  yielded, 
the  vanquished  was  to  be  brought  back  within  the  lists, 
his  wound  again  laid  open,  and  he  restcned,  in  all  respects 
as  nearly  as  possible,  to  the  condition  in  which  he  lay  when 
his  second  made  the  surrender  in  his  place.  This  neces- 
sity, which  was  communicated  by  our  good  knight,  soon 
brought  the  stubborn  party  to  his  senses.  The  arms  were 
given  up  to  Bayard  by  whom  they  were  delivered  to  Aze- 
vedo, who  went  on  his  way  rejoicing  to  the  sound  of  clarion 
and  trumpet. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


The  Pope's  assumption  of  the  helm  and  spear  of  Mars, 
and  his  consequent  desertion  of  the  office,  if  not  the  chair, 
of  St.  Peter,  led  to  a  bold  desire  on  the  part  of  the  Emper- 
or Maximilian  and  the  King  of  France  to  deprive  him  of 
his  authority.  A  council  of  the  Church  was  called,  to  be 
held  at  the  city  of  Pisa,  from  whence,  however,  it  was  re- 
moved, through  fear  of  the  populace,  to  Milan,  where  it 
sat  securely  under  the  protection  of  the  French.  This 
measure  was  the  result  of  long  deliberation  between  the 
two  princes  by  whom  it  was  planned,  and  several  cardinals 
were  prevailed  upon  to  unite  in  an  alliance  against  the 
Holy  Father.  Against  this  alliance,  which  threatened  to 
be  formidable,  the  Pope  bestirred  himself  with  his  usual 
diligence.  He  appointed  a  general  council  of  the  Church 
to  be  held  at  Rome,  warned  the  disobedient  cardinals  to 
return  to  their  duty  within  sixty-five  days,  under  pain  of 


240  LEAGUE  AGAINST  THE  FRENCH. 

the  forfeiture  of  their  dignities  and  revenues;  and  suc- 
ceeded, by  certain  concessions  made  to  Ferdinand  of  Ar- 
ragon,  in  beguiling  him,  in  the  teeth  of  recent  pledges 
made  to  France,  into  a  union  with  himself  and  the  Vene- 
tians. The  Holy  League  was  the  imposing  title  given  to 
this  alliance,  into  which  Henry  VIII.  of  England  was  drawn 
by  the  influence  of  his  father-in-law,  the  King  of  Arragon. 
The  latter  agreed  to  furnish  twelve  hundred  men-at-arms 
and  ten  thousand  foot,  under  the  command  of  Don  Ray- 
mond de  Cardona,  viceroy  of  Naples,  with  a  train  of  artil- 
lery and  eleven  war  galleys ;  the  Pope  contributed  six  hun- 
dred men-at-arms,  and  the  Venetians  their  whole  forces, 
by  land  and  sea.  Henry  VIII.  was  to  send  an  army  into 
Guienne,  which  province  was  to  be  the  reward  of  his  ser- 
vices. A  large  body  of  Swiss  was  also  subsidized  by  the 
Pope,  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  descent  upon  the  Mi- 
lanese while  the  allies  were  engaging  the  attention  of  the 
French  in  other  parts  of  Italy.  A  judicious  plan  of  con- 
cert brought  most  of  the  allies  into  the  field  at  the  same 
moment,  and  demanded  the  instant  employment,  by  the 
French,  of  all  the  resources  in  their  power.  Fortunately, 
they  had  the  first  and  most  necessary  of  all  in  their  famous 
leader,  Gaston  de  Foix,  duke  of  Nemours.  He  first  turn- 
ed his  attention  upon  the  Swiss,  who  descended  from  their 
mountains  about  the  close  of  the  year  1511.  They  bore 
on  this  occasion  the  famous  standard  which  had  so  often 
been  the  terror  of  their  enemies,  upon  whose  folds  was  in- 
scribed in  letters  of  gold,  "  Domatores  Principum.     Ama- 

TORES    JuSTICIiE.       DefENSORES     SaNCT^    RoMANiE    EcCLE- 

siA  ;" — an  inscription,  the  tenor  of  which,  they  had  not 
always  shown  themselves  anxious  to  observe.  The  results 
of  their  present  irivai^ion  were  in  no  respects  commensurate 
with  the  imposing  language  of  their  standard.  They  mark- 
ed their  progress  in  the  destruction  of  the  hamlets  through 
which  they  passed,  and,  while  the  grefit  body  of  the  French 
were  employed  in  garrison  at  Verona,  Bologna,  and  other 


DEATH  OF  BARON  DE  CONTI.  241 

towns,  they  gained  some  advantages  over  detachments 
which  the  Duke  de  Nemours  sent  forward,  rather  to  watch 
and  to  retard  their  progress  than  to  join  with  them  in  bat- 
tle. Skinnishes  were  frequent  between  the  advance-guards 
of  the  Swiss  and  these  patrolHng  parties,  the  French  gradu- 
ally retiring  before  their  enemies,  until  they  found  shelter 
in  Milan.  From  this  place,  the  Baron  de  Conti,  going  forth 
with  an  hundred  horse  to  make  an  incursion,  was  unfortu- 
nate in  meeting  with  a  vastly  superior  force,  by  which  he 
was  roughly  handled,  losing  several  of  his  men,  and  he 
himself  retiring  wounded  to  the  death.  This  was  a  severe 
loss  to  Bayard,  who  was  the  bosom  friend  of  this  noble- 
man. But  Bayard  better  loved  to  avenge  than  to  mourn 
the  death  of  his  comrade.  Such,  indeed,  is  the  usual  mode 
of  expressing  sonow,  among  men  of  war,  in  all  ages.  He 
buckled  on  his  armor  and  sallied  forth  the  very  next  day 
after  this  event,  seeking  the  very  spot  where  the  Baron  of 
Conti  had  met  his  death.  Here  he  encountered  five  hun- 
dred of  the  Swiss,  whom  he  overthrew  ;  and,  the  blood  of 
his  friend  still  before  his  eyes,  we  may  well  suppose 
that  he  did  not  too  suddenly  withhold  the  arm  of  slaugh- 
ter. 

The  leaguer  of  Milan  was  not  long  maintained  by  these 
capricious  mountain  mercenaries,  who  carried  the  proud 
inscription  upon  their  standard,  rather  for  the  eyes  of  others 
than  their  own.  Their  provisions  beginning  to  fail  them, 
they  were  not  unwilling  to  listen  to  terms  of  composition ; 
and  having  his  hands  full  of  other  arms,  with  whom  hard 
blows  only  would  avail,  the  Duke  de  Nemours  found  it 
politic  to  buy  off  with  money  these  excellent  defenders  of 
the  Holy  Roman  Church.  Their  leaders  were  soon  per- 
suaded to  retrace  their  steps  across  the  Alps;  and  the 
states  of  Milan  being  thus  put  in  security,  the  French 
general  proceeded  to  the  relief  of  the  city  of  Bologna,  the 
siege  of  which  had  been  commenced  by  the  allied  army  on 
the  26th  .of  January,  1512.     The  Papal  troops  were  en- 

X 


242  ALBERTO    PICO    OF    CARPI. 

trusted  to  the  Cardinal  Medici,  as  legate  of  Bologna,  under 
whom  Marc  Antonio  Colonna  acted  as  general  of  the 
Church.  Don  Raymond  de  Cardona,  who  led  the  Span- 
iards, was  assisted  by  Fabrizio  Colonna  and  Pietro  Na- 
vaiTo.  The  city  was  held  by  Annibale  and  Hermes 
Bentivoglio,  with  a  powerful  Italian  party,  which  had  ad- 
hered to  the  fortunes  of  the  French ;  and  a  strong  body  of 
troops  of  the  latter  nation,  under  the  command  of  Lautrec. 
The  allies  had  made  considerable  progress  in  the  siege. 
Their  approaches  were  carried  on  in  due  form,  and  the 
walls  were  gradually  crumbling  under  the  continual  fire  of 
the  artillery.  A  mine,  meanwhile,  had  been  sprung  in  an 
excavation,  which  was  meant  to  lay  the  city  in  ruins.  But, 
fortunately  for  the  inhabitants,  the  explosion  only  lifted 
from  its  foundations  a  chapel  of  the  Virgin,  which,  after 
making  certain  evolutions  in  the  air  (which  afforded  the 
besiegers  a  momentary  view  of  the  interior  of  the  city), 
settled  down  quietly  upon  the  spot  which  it  had  formerly 
occupied,  and  closed  the  breach  with  its  own  massive 
ruins.  These,  as  the  chapel  stood  immediately  against  the 
walls  of  the  city,  sei-ved  the  purpose  of  a  sufficient  tem- 
porary banicade.  The  besiegers  were  somewhat  discour- 
aged by  this  result  of  their  exertions.  The  besieged,  on 
the  contrary,  found  something  in  it  auspicious  to  their 
hopes  of  a  successful  defence.  That  the  chapel  of  the 
Holy  Virgin  del  Barracane  should  have  so  appropriately 
occupied  the  breach  made  by  the  enemy,  was  surely  some- 
thing upon  which  true  believers  might  base  the  most  flatter- 
ing hopes  of  the  future. 

Meanwhile,  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  hearing  of  the 
approaches  of  the  Spanish  army,  to  the  leaguer  of  the 
place,  repaired  to  a  village  nearer  Ferrara,  named  Finale, 
where  he  employed  himself  in  assembling  his  forces  for  its 
relief  While  on  his  advance  to  this  place,  he  stopped  for 
two  days  at  the  little  town  of  Carpi,  where  he  was  enter- 
tained by  Alberto  Pico,  count  thereof,  a  nobleman  who  had 


THE  ASTROLOGER  OF  CARPI.  243 

the  reputation  of  being  a  great  master  of  ancient  as  well  as 
modem  literature.  Among  the  subjects  which  at  that  time 
greatly  interested  the  politicians  of  this  little  town,  was  the 
presence  among  them  of  a  great  astrologer — a  soothsayer, 
whose  revelations  of  the  past,  and  whose  predictions  of  the 
future,  were  the  topics  in  every  mouth.  The  wise,  in  that 
day,  were  not  superior  to  those  superstitions  which  spelled 
the  ears  of  the  vulgar.  On  the  contrary,  while  the  Church 
forbore  to  disavow,  science  and  nobility  somewhat  insisted 
upon  them.  An  astrologer  was  still  kept  by  piinces  even 
after  the  fool  had  been  discarded ;  and  pride  and  pomp 
had  their  faith  in  prophecy  even  while  forgetting  reli- 
gion. When  the  gentle  Duke  de  Nemours  heard  of  the 
astrologer  of  Carpi,  he  became  exceedingly  anxious  to 
behold  him,  and  his  host  was  not  unwilling  that  the  cu- 
riosity of  his  guest  should  be  gratified.  A  certain  degree 
of  faith  in  what  he  should  declare  was  inspired  in  the 
minds  of  the  French  gentlemen  by  what  they  had  heard 
already  of  his  predictions.  "  Surely,"  says  the  "  Loyal 
Servant,"  "  the  true  Christian  must  believe  that  God  alone 
can  look  into  futurity  ;  yet  did  this  astrologer  of  Carpi 
show  so  many  things,  and  to  so  many  people,  which  after- 
ward proved  tiTie,  that  he  turned  the  heads  of  a  great 
number." 

The  soothsayer  readily  obeyed  the  summons  of  the  count, 
and  appeared  before  him  and  his  guests.  He  was  lean  of 
person,  of  middle  stature,  and  about  sixty  years  of  age. 
His  aspect  commanded  respect,  and  his  manners  secured 
it.  The  Duke  of  Nemours  received  him  graciously,  shook 
hands  with  him,  and  was  answered  with  the  propriety  and 
dignity  of  one  who  knew  equally  well  what  was  due  to  him- 
self and  others.  Much  conversation  passed  between  them, 
before  the  duke  began  his  inquiries.  He  then  asked  of  the 
astrologer  if  the  Viceroy  of  Naples  (Don  Raymond  de  Car- 
dona)  and  the  Spaniards  would  stay  to  join  battle.  He  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative,  and  added  that  the  engagement 


244  HIS    PREDICTIONS. 

would  take  place  upon  Good  Friday,  or  Easter  Sunday, 
and  would  be  a  very  bloody  one.  When  asked  which  side 
would  gain  the  victory,  he  replied  thus  :  "  The  French  will 
keep  the  field ;  the  Spaniards  will  sustain  the  most  grievous 
loss  they  have  experienced  for  an  hundred  years ;  but  the 
French  will  gain  little  by  it,  for  their  losses  will  also  be 
great,  particularly  in  men  of  distinction.  He  spake  so  that 
it  was  wonderful  to  hear.  Chabannes,  the  Lord  de  la  Pa- 
lisse,  then  demanded  of  him  if  he  should  perish  in  the  bat- 
tle. He  told  him  that  he  would  not — that  he  would  survive 
twelve  years  longer,  and  be  slain  in  another  engagement. 
The  answer  to  a  question  of  the  Lord  of  Humbercourt  was 
similar.  Captain  Richbourg,  he  counselled  to  beware  of 
lightning,  and  his  answers,  to  all  who  sought,  were  equally 
confident  and  particular. 

Bayard  seems  to  have  treated  these  predictions  of  the 
astrologer  with  no  gi'eat  reverence,  and  made  no  inquiries 
at  his  hands.  Seeing  the  smile  upon  his  lips,  the  Duke  de 
Nemours  urged  him  to  look  also  into  the  womb  of  the  fu- 
ture. "  Come,  my  Lord  of  Bayard,  come,  my  friend,  do 
you  interrogate  the  master  also." 

"  And  why  V  answered  Bayard  ;  "  it  is  surely  needless, 
since  I  well  know  I  can  never  come  to  any  thing  very 
great;  but,  since  you  desire  it,  so  be  it."  Then  turning  to 
the  astrologer,  "  Pray,  good  master,  shall  I  ever  become  a 
greatly  rich  man  ]" 

"  Greatly  rich  in  honor  and  virtue  as  any  captain  of 
France  that  ever  lived ;  but  of  the  goods  of  fortune  you 
will  always  own  but  few.  These,  indeed,  you  do  not 
covet.  You  will  serve  another  king  than  him  who  now 
reigns  in  France,  and  will  be  much  loved  and  honored 
by  him,  but  the  envy  of  rivals  will  keep  him  from  be- 
stowing upon  you  the  wealth  and  the  honors  which  you 
merit." 

"  And  shall  I  escape  the  battle  which  impends,  and  which 
you  say  will  be  a  very  bloody  one  ]" 


bayard's  evasion.  245 

"  You  will,  but  you  will  perish  at  last  in  battle,  and  by- 
artillery,  within  twelve  years  at  farthest.  But  for  this,  you 
would  never  end  your  days  in  the  field,  as  none  who  follow 
you  would  ever  leave  you  in  jeopardy." 

"  It  was  as  good  as  a  comedy,"  says  our  chronicler,  who 
seems  to  have  been  present,  "  to  hear  the  inteiTOgatories,  as 
they  were  put  to  the  astrologer,  and  to  remark  his  answers." 
At  the  close  of  the  interview,  observing  that,  of  all  the  cap- 
tains, Chabannes  and  Bayard  were  the  most  intimate  with 
the  Duke  de  Nemours,  he  drew  these  two  aside  and  said 
to  them — "  There  is  something,  my  lords,  which  I  have 
not  said  to  this  prince  whom  you  follow,  and  who  seems  to 
be  very  much  beloved  among  you.  This  will  I  say  to  you 
— for  he  merits  to  be  loved  and  honored.  Give  heed  to 
him,  therefore,  on  the  day  of  battle,  for  he  is  very  like  to 
fall  therein.  Should  he  survive,  he  will  become  one  of  the 
greatest  and  most  exalted  personages  that  France  hath  ever 
produced.  But  it  will  be  scarce  possible  for  him  to  escape 
this  danger ;  for,  on  my  head,  it  is  a  peril  as  gi'eat  as  ever 
threatened  mortal !" 

"  Cursed  !"  exclaims  our  quaint  and  simple  chronicler — 
"  cursed  be  the  hour,  alas !  whereof  he  so  truly  prophesied  !" 
The  two  knights  turned,  and  probably  with  grave  looks,  to 
the  assembly ;  when  the  Duke  de  Nemours  asked,  with  a 
smile,  of  what  the  astrologer  had  spoken.  Bayard  answer- 
ed promptly,  with  a  happy  evasion,  at  the  expense  of  Cha- 
bannes, "  Sir,  my  Lord  de  la  Palisse  hath  been  enquiring 
of  him  whether  he  be  as  well  beloved  of  Reffuge  as 
Viverot.  He  is  not  over  happy  that  the  answer  should 
be  '  nay.'  " 

The  laughter  of  the  duke  followed  the  jest,  and,  just  then, 
the  arrival  of  a  new-comer  still  farther  served  to  lessen  the 
gravity  which  the  revelations  of  the  soothsayer  might  have 
wrought  on  every  face.  This  person  was  one  of  those,  who 
are  probably  to  be  found  in  every  camp,  whose  valor  is  the 
only  virtue  to  compensate  for  a  thousand  vices.     Jacquin 


246  JACaUIN    CAUMONT. 

Caumont  held  the  office  of  standard-bearer  in  one  of  the 
bands  of  Captain  Molait.  These  bands  belonged  to  the 
class  of  "  free-lances."  They  were,  in  fact,  mere  mercena- 
ries, such  as  the  wars  in  Italy  particularly  encouraged — 
though  having  in  their  ranks  numerous  persons  of  good 
family  and  blood  and  of  high  distinction.  Notoriously  vicious 
among  his  bands,  Caumont  carried  with  him  no  very  honor- 
able odor.  But  he  was  brave  and  audacious,  and  these  are 
always  redeeming  virtues  in  an  army.  Disposed  to  share 
in  the  pastimes  of  his  superiors,  this  adventurer  drew  the 
astrologer  aside,  and,  using  some  offensive  appellation,  de- 
manded of  him  his  fortune  also.  The  manner  of  Caumont, 
and  perhaps  his  well-known  character,  provoked  the  other's 
indignation,  who  angrily  refused  to  answer  any  of  his  ques- 
tions. Apologizing  for  his  rudeness,  Caumont  finally  per- 
suaded the  astrologer  to  examine  his  hand — palmistry  and 
physiognomy  being  among  his  modes  of  divination.  But 
the  examination  only  determined  the  astrologer  to  answer 
none  of  Caumont's  enquiries.  "  Ask  me  nothing,"  said  he, 
"  I  can  tell  you  nothing  good." 

The  company  laughed  aloud,  and  the  adventurer  becom- 
ing disconcerted,  now  insisted  upon  his  revelations.  Thus 
urged,  the  astrologer  answered :  "  Then  look  to  your  soul 
in  good  time,  for  in  less  than  six  months  you  will  be  hung 
and  strangled." 

Little  did  the  hearers  fancy  that  this  prediction  was  to  be 
verified.  They  took  for  granted  that  the  soothsayer  sought 
nothing  farther  than  to  revenge  upon  the  irreverent  Cau- 
mont the  insulting  language  with  which  the  other  had  ad- 
dressed him  ;  and  was  emboldened  to  speak  thus,  as  he  saw 
in  how  little  respect  the  adventurer  was  treated  by  the  com- 
pany. But  such,  verily  was  the  fate  of  the  fellow,  who  ful- 
filled his  destiny  after  the  battle  of  Ravenna,  of  which  more 
hereafter.  He  was  secure,  meanwhile,  against  drowning, 
thus  realizing  the  tiTith  of  a  famous  proverb;  to  illustrate 
which,  says  our  ancient  chronicler,  "  I  will  now  proceed  to 


CAUMONT    ON    A    FROLIC.  247 

tell  you  what  soon  befel  him ;"  and  thereupon  he  tells  the 
following  story,  which,  as  illustrative  of  the  manners  and 
conduct  of  the  time,  we  repeat  for  the  benefit  of  the 
reader.  It  was  two  or  three  days  after  the  scene  with  the 
astrologer  that  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  with  his  forces,  ar- 
rived at  Finale.  This  was  a  great  village,  through  which 
ran  a  deep  canal  which  emptied  into  the  river  Po.  The 
canal  was  daily  traversed  by  hundreds  of  vessels  bringing 
supplies  and  provisions  for  the  French.  It  was  crossed  by 
a  wooden  bridge,  the  dimensions  of  which,  ample  enough 
in  the  day-light,  and  for  sober  people,  were  perhaps  some- 
what circumscribed  at  midnight,  and  for  wayfarers  who  had 
been  pledging  their  comrades  like  hearty  fellows.  Jacquin 
Caumont  was  a  frolicsome  blade,  who  no  more  shrunk  from 
his  bottle  than  from  his  enemy.  He  had  supped  late  and 
drank  deep  with  his  pot-companions,  and  the  demon  seized 
him,  about  the  ninth  hour  of  the  night  to  do  something 
handsome,  in  emulation  of  such  knights  as  Bayard.  Tak- 
ing with  him  a  number  of  Swiss,  bearing  torches  and  tim- 
brels, he  dashed  forth  gallantly,  with  gay  music  and  glitter- 
ing lights,  toward  the  lodging  of  his  captain,  the  Lord  of 
Molart.  He  was  armed  at  all  points,  mounted  on  a  very 
fine  courser,  and  equipped  like  a  St.  George,  at  least — his 
pay  and  plunder,  it  may  be  mentioned,  sufficing  not  only  to 
keep  him  in  good  suppers,  but  to  furnish  him  with  a  varie- 
ty of  splendid  apparel  and  several  great  horses.  His  great 
ambition,  we  should  add,  was  to  be  enrolled  among  the 
ordinary  men-at-arais  of  France.  These,  we  have  al- 
ready mentioned,  were  generally  select  persons,  of  the 
best  condition ;  it  being  a  great  favor,  on  the  part  of  the 
king,  to  admit  the  candidate  to  this  class  of  his  warriors. 
It  was,  probably,  with  some  view  to  commending  him- 
self to  the  gendarms  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours  that  Mes- 
sire  Jacquin  Caumont  sallied  out  on  this  midnight  expe- 
dition. 

When  the  Lord  of  Molart  beheld  the  adventurer  in  this 


248  HIS    TILT. 

gallant  trim,  and  at  that  late  hour  of  the  night,  he  laughed 
loudly,  for  he  saw  that  the  malmsey  had  been  more  than 
usually  potent.  There  was  no  such  rigid  discipline  among 
these  J'ree  companions — as  they  were  called — such  as  the  reg- 
ular military  service  in  our  times  demands,  and  which  would 
have  caused  such  an  offender  as  Caumont  to  be  consigned 
to  the  guard.  The  Lord  of  Molart  laughed  memly  at  the 
sight  of  his  lieutenant's  ecstacy,  and  cried  to  him,  "  How 
now,  Captain  Jacquin,  are  you  minded  to  leave  off  trail- 
ing the  pike  V 

"  By  no  means,  my  lord,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  I  come 
that  you  should  conduct  me  to  the  lodging  of  my  Lord 
of  Nemours.  I  would  have  him  see  me  break  the  lance 
I  hold,  that  he  may  know  whether  a  saulte-puisson  will  not 
run  at  a  tilt  as  well  as  a  lean  jade." 

Molart,  himself  tickled  with  the  prospect  of  a  merry  jest, 
never  doubted  that  the  duke  would  find  a  source  of  pleas- 
ure in  it  also.  Under  his  conduct,  therefore,  Captain  Cau- 
mont crossed  the  wooden  bridge  and  proceeded  to  the 
duke's  lodgings.  This  nobleman  came  forth  with  his 
guests  at  the  summons  of  the  Lord  of  Molart,  and  seeing 
them  appear,  surrounded  by  the  glare  of  torches,  that  made 
the  scene  as  bright  as  day,  the  captain  placed  himself  with- 
in the  lists.  "  For  whom  would  you  break  a  lance.  Cap- 
tain Jacquin,"  demanded  the  duke,  "  for  the  love  of  your 
lady,  or  of  me  '?" 

Swearing  a  trooper's  oath,  which  was,  of  course,  of  am- 
ple dimensions,  the  ambitious  adventurer  answered  by  say- 
ing, "  that  it  was  for  the  love  of  him,  and  that  he  was  a  fit 
man  to  serve  the  king  either  on  foot  or  horseback."  Thus 
speaking,  he  lowered  his  visor,  and  tilted  as  well  as  he  was 
able — inexperience  and  a  skinful  of  wine  making  the  whole 
exhibition  appear  very  ludicrous  to  the  accomplished  men- 
at-arms  among  the  French.  But  with  all  his  tilting  he 
found  it  impossible  to  shiver  his  lance,  and,  sobered  some- 
what in  the  shame  of  his  discomfiture,  which  soon  provoked 


SIEGE    OF    BOLOGNA.  249 

the  indignation  as  well  as  laughter  of  the  spectators,  he 
wheeled  about  to  return  to  his  lodgings,  but  in  no  proper 
mood  for  riding.  His  horse  partook  of  his  bad  humor, 
being  goaded  perpetually  by  the  spur  of  his  rider,  who, 
perhaps  unconsciously,  contrived  that  it  should  tickle  and 
offend  his  flanks  with  every  plunge  in  his  progress.  It  so 
happened  that  this  irritating  application  became  more  ve- 
hement just  as  our  Captain  Caumont  was  about  to  cross 
the  bridge.  The  steed  leapt  aside  from  the  torture,  the 
planks  of  the  bridge  had  been  rendered  slippery  from  a 
recent  rain,  and  the  result  was  that  steed  and  rider  were 
wallowing  in  the  waters  of  the  canal  before  any  of  his  at- 
tendants could  interfere.  They  waved  their  torches  and 
cried  aloud  for  help  with  sufficient  lungs,  but  as  the  canal 
was  a  flat-bottomed  ditch,  with  abrupt  sides,  and  no  conve- 
nient ascents,  they  could  give  him  no  succor  from  above.  He 
must  have  perished  but  for  the  numerous  boats  that  crept 
along  the  stream.  Horse  and  man  were  both  saved — the 
latter  with  more  difficulty  than  the  former.  The  excellent 
captain,  taken  out  of  the  water,  was  hung  up  by  the  heels 
until  he  had  disgorged  much  more  than  he  had  willingly 
imbibed.  That  he  should  have  been  rescued  and  saved, 
thus  immersed,  at  midnight  and  in  midwinter,  armed,  as 
he  was,  at  all  points,  only  served,  in  the  opinion  of  all,  to 
establish  the  wonderful  felicity  of  the  proverb.  He  was 
reserved  for  a  still  more  ignoble  fate. 

But  we  must  take  the  road  to  Bologna.  The  Duke  of 
Nemours  was  now  apprised  that,  unless  immediately  re- 
lieved, it  must  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  allies.  The  sea- 
son was  unfavorable  for  such  a  progi'ess,  but  the  case  was 
urgent  and  it  was  resolved  on.  The  march  was  begun 
and  conducted  with  such  secrecy  that  the  French  entered 
the  city  of  Bologna,  sixteen  thousand  in  number,  without 
having  made  the  besiegers  at  all  conscious  of  their  ap- 
proach. The  allies  were  as  effectually  disgraced  by  this 
event  as  if  they  had  been  discomfited.     They  were  discom- 


250  SIEGE    RAISED. 

fited.  The  siege  was  raised,  the  town  reinforced  with  men 
and  supplied  with  provisions,  and  the  Duke  de  Nemours 
ready  to  pursue  such  other  enterprises  as  were  suggested 
by  his  duties  or  his  fate. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

But  while  the  French  were  thus  deser^-edly  fortunate  in 
one  enterpiise,  the  Venetians  were  quite  as  successful  in 
another,  which  more  than  compensated  for  their  failure  at 
Bologna.  They  succeeded,  by  availing  themselves  of  a 
don>estic  faction  within  the  city  of  Brescia,  in  repossessing 
themselves  of  this  fine  and  famous  town — at  that  time  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  strong  in  Europe — in  the  lan- 
guage of  one  of  the  chroniclers,  "  the  darling  daughter  of 
St.  Mark."  The  events  by  which  they  were  thus  success- 
ful, merit  recital  rather  by  their  results  than  because  of 
their  own  interest,  which,  in  a  narrative  like  the  present, 
must  find  only  partial  development.  Brescia  had  been  held 
by  the  French  for  nearly  three  years.  It  was  one  of  those 
lovely  and  desirable  places  for  which  its  original  owners 
might  well  be  supposed  to  repine.  A  strong  party  in  the 
city  were  favorable  to  revolt,  but  they  were  kept  in  check 
through  fear  of  the  garrison,  and,  in  consequence  of  certain 
rigorous  measures  which  had  been  adopted,  on  a  recent 
occasion,  by  Bayard  and  his  associate,  the  Baron  de  Conti. 
These,  detecting  the  Count  Giovanni  Maria  Martininque,  a 
member  of  one  of  the  first  families  of  the  place,  and  one  of 
its  most  eminent  men,  in  a  conspiracy  against  the  French 
authority,  did  not  scruple  to  take  off  his  head,  and  to  cast 
certain  of  his  confederates  into  prison.  The  place  was 
now  held  by  the  Count  de  Lude  as  governor,  and  the  castle 
was  under  the  command  of  a  gentleman  of  Biscay,  named 
Herigorge.  These  officers  probably  slept  securely  over 
their  trusts.  At  all  events,  treachery  was  busy  within  the 
walls.      There    were   two   houses   in  the  city  of  Brescia, 


252  SIEGE    OF    THE    CASTLE    OF    BRESCIA. 

between  which  there  existed  a  mortal  feud ; — a  thing  by- 
no  means  uncommon  in  the  Italian  cities.  These  were 
the  houses  of  Garubara  and  Avogadro.  The  former 
favored  the  French;  the  latter  were  hostile.  The  sons 
of  the  two  heads  of  houses  having  a  personal  encounter, 
young  Avogadro  was  severely  wounded.  Count  Avo- 
gadro sought  redress  from  the  Duke  de  Nemours  while 
he  lay  at  Milan,  but  without  obtaining  it.  The  duke 
probably  thought  the  young  men  equally  censurable, 
and  possibly  inclined  to  favor  the  party  whose  sympa- 
thies were  with  the  French.  But  the  anger  of  Avo- 
gadro was  not  thus  to  be  appeased,  and  his  personal 
resentment  brought  about  an  event  which  his  patriotism 
had  never  aimed  at.  Under  color  of  a  visit  to  an  estate  in 
the  country,  he  stole  away  to  Venice,  and  there  schemed 
with  the  Seignory  for  restoring  Brescia  to  their  keeping. 
The  plan  was  well  digested  between  the  parties,  and  the 
revengeful  count,  subduing  all  appearance  of  choler,  re- 
turned to  Brescia,  and  quietly  drew  his  faction  to  a  head. 
According  to  arrangement,  the  Venetians  sounded  an 
alarm  at  the  gates  of  the  town,  in  great  force ;  the  French 
gallantly  encountered  them ;  and,  while  engaged  with  the 
enemy,  the  party  of  Avogadro  rose  in  aims  within.  The 
gates  were  thrown  open  to  the  Venetians ;  and,  assailed  on 
all  sides,  the  Count  de  Lude  was  compelled  to  take  shelter 
in  the  castle  with  as  many  of  his  people  as  survived  the 
conflict,  or  could  escape  the  pursuit  of  their  foes.  But 
these  were  few;  and  all  the  French  who  were  detected 
within  the  town  were  put  to  the  sword  without  mercy. 
The  siege  of  the  castle  then  followed,  but  it  was  stubbornly 
defended.  The  walls  were  battered  into  great  breaches, 
and  the  Venetians,  under  the  provveditore,  Andrea  Gritti, 
were  making  ready  for  the  assault,  when  the  tidings  of 
the  affair  reached  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  in  a  despatch 
from  the  Count  de  Lude;  who  warned  him  that  he  could 
only  hold  out  for  eight  days,  and  must  yield  to  the  enemy 


THE    SKIRMISH.  253 

unless  relieved  within  that  space  of  time.  Gaston  de  Foix 
was  not  the  warrior  to  hesitate.  It  was  one  of  the  valuable 
points  in  his  military  character,  that  his  promptness  and 
decision  were  equal  to  his  skill  and  valor.  He  had  just 
repossessed  himself  of  Bologna ;  but  this  good  fortune  gave 
no  justification  to  repose.  He  called  his  captains  to  coun- 
sel, and  it  was  unanimously  agreed  that  Brescia  was  to  be 
retaken,  and  might  be  if  the  castle  had  not  already  fallen. 
Orders  for  the  march  followed  instantly,  and  the  French 
army  was  soon  upon  its  way. 

The  Venetians,  meanwhile,  were  far  from  idle.  The 
leaguer  of  the  castle  still  continued ;  but,  ere  it  had  well 
begun,  the  sagacious  provveditore  had  sent  his  despatches 
to  the  Seignory,  apprising  them  of  the  capture  of  the  town, 
demanding  succor,  and  counselling  that,  to  secure  their 
conquest,  it  was  not  only  necessary  that  they  should  keep 
the  town,  but  be  prepared  to  give  the  French  battle  in  the 
field.  In  compliance  with  these  suggestions,  they  des- 
patched two  bodies  of  the  allied  troops,  several  thousand 
in  number :  one  of  them  under  the  command  of  Gian- 
Paolo  Baglione,  the  other  under  that  of  the  Count  Guido 
Rangone.  The  former  general  encountered  the  advance 
of  the  French  army  in  a  narrow  pass,  where  he  necessarily 
had  them  at  advantage.  This  pass  he  occupied  with  five 
or  six  pieces  of  artillery.  The  movements  of  the  Duke  de 
Nemours  were  executed  with  great  rapidity;  but  he  was 
not  sufficiently  near  the  advance  to  take  part  in  the  action. 
This  was  led  by  the  light-horse,  under  the  command  of 
Bayard.  It  so  happened  that  our  hero  had  been  all  night 
suffering  from  the  ague ;  and,  not  expecting  the  meeting  at 
this  point  with  enemies,  of  whose  approach  their  scouts 
had  left  them  unadvised,  he  was  entirely  without  his 
armor,  wearing  only  a  riding-dress  of  black  velvet.  The 
discharge  of  artillery  apprising  him  of  the  presence  of  the 
enemy,  rendered  necessary  a  change  of  costume.  But  his 
own  was  not  convenient,  and  borrowing  a  corslet  from  one 

Y 


254 

of  the  adventurers,  he  put  this  beneath  his  cloak,  and 
mounting  a  highly-mettled  courser,  dashed  to  the  point 
where  the  standard-bearer  of  the  Count  de  Saligny  had 
just  been  shot  down.  The  main  body  of  the  French  van- 
guard was  still  a  considerable  distance  in  the  rear,  but  the 
circumstances  were  such  as  would  admit  of  no  delay ;  and 
the  good  knight,  regardless  of  the  inequality  of  numbers,  at 
once  led  his  troopers  to  the  charge.  A  rough  conflict 
ensued,  which  had  lasted  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when 
the  French  troops  began  to  appear  in  force.  At  this  sight 
the  Venetians  were  seized  with  a  panic.  They  had  found 
the  conflict  sufliciently  fierce  and  doubtful  with  no  other 
assailants  than  the  light-armed  cavalry  of  their  opponents, 
and  might  very  well  suppose  the  case  hopeless  when  fresh 
troops,  and  in  larger  bodies,  came  to  their  relief.  The 
rout  was  complete.  The  pursuit  was  keenly  urged,  and 
the  sword  reaped  an  ample  harvest  from  the  flight.  The 
Venetians  lost  all  their  artillery.  Their  infantry,  abandoned 
by  their  cavalry,  were  cut  to  pieces ;  and  but  few  of  the 
latter  escaped  in  the  bloody  chase  which  followed  upon 
the  desertion  of  their  comrades.  The  victory  was  as- 
cribed to  Bayard,  as  the  only  leader  of  the  French  upon 
the  field.  His  associate  in  the  command  of  the  advance 
guard  was  slain  at  the  first  discharge  of  the  Venetian  artil- 
lery, and  the  Duke  de  Nemours  never  reached  the  field 
until  the  victory  was  won. 

The  defeat  of  the  Count  Guido  Rangone,  who  led  the 
other  body  of  the  allied  troops  which  the  Seignory  had 
sent  forward  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  French,  followed 
upon  this  event;  the  obstacle  in  both  cases  exhibiting  a  sin- 
gular feebleness  in  the  generals  employed,  and  a  lack  of 
that  steadfast  courage  in  the  troops  which  alone  can  achieve 
successes.  Both  defeats  were  signal;  and,  without  farther 
interruption,  the  Duke  de  Nemours  made  his  way  to  the 
castle  of  Brescia,  which  he  rejoiced  to  find  was  still  in  pos- 
session of  the  French.     Into  this,  penetrating  with  all  his 


FRENCH    SUMMON    BRESCIA.  255 

captains,  he  called  an  immediate  council  as  to  the  best 
method  for  making  the  assault  upon  the  town.  He  was 
not  one  of  those,  says  our  chronicler,  who  loved  to  dream 
over  their  affairs ;  and  he  felt,  in  this  instance  particularly, 
all  the  importance  of  immediate  action.  The  town  was 
strongly  defended  by  eight  thousand  regular  troops,  and 
some  twelve  or  fourteen  thousand  peasantry  who  had  flock- 
ed into  the  city.  Add  to  these  the  residents  of  the  place, 
and  you  have  a  force  in  Brescia  sufficiently  formidable  to 
task  all  the  energies  and  ingenuity  of  the  young  and  accom- 
plished leader  by  whom  the  arms  of  France  were  led.  The 
town  itself  was  very  strong,  but  without  fosse  or  ditch  be- 
tween the  castle  and  the  city.  There  was  a  good  rampart 
between  the  two,  however,  for  the  defence  of  which  the 
Venetians  had  posted  their  best  troops.  The  summons  of 
the  French  general,  who  promised  a  pardon  to  the  citizens 
on  their  submission  to  his  arms,  and  who  threatened  the 
town  with  sack  in  the  event  of  their  refusal,  produced  no 
compliance.  The  inhabitants  declared  themselves  ready  to 
defend  themselves  to  the  last  extremity.  The  French  had 
been  no  favorites  with  the  citizens,  as  perhaps  no  foreign 
garrison  can  well  be  in  any  country ;  and  they  exhibited  a 
manly  and  determined  aspect  of  defiance  which  seemed 
prepared  to  look  upon  the  worst.  The  women  and  children 
were  conducted  to  the  monasteries ;  their  money  and  all 
other  valuables,  which  might  easily  be  concealed,  were  put 
away  with  all  possible  despatch  and  secrecy;  and  they  stood 
ready  for  the  fatal  issue.  This,  from  the  well-known  celer- 
ity of  movement  and  great  skill  and  courage  of  the  Duke 
de  Nemoure,  they  well  anticipated  would  not  be  long  de- 
layed. 

The  forces  under  Gaston  de  Foix  did  not  exceed  twelve 
thousand  men.  He  had  left  some  five  thousand  of  his  troops 
in  charge  of  Bologna.  If,  however,  his  numbers  fell  greatly 
short  of  those  who  defended  Brescia,  there  was  this  to  be 
claimed  in  their  favor,  that  they  were  picked  men,  a  vet- 


256  bayard's  counsel. 

eran  force,  having  with  them  the  very  flower  of  French 
knighthood.  The  conclusion  of  the  council,  held  in  the  cas- 
tle of  Brescia,  determined  that  the  assault  should  be  made 
on  the  morning  of  the  next  day,  between  the  hours  of  eight 
and  nine.  The  plan  of  the  attack  assigned  to  the  Lord  de 
Molart  the  bringing  on  of  the  battle.  He- was  to  commence 
the  assault  with  his  infantry,  while  Captain  Herigorge,  with 
his  men,  was  to  skirmish  on  the  advance.  He  was  to  be 
followed  by  Captain  Zemberg  with  two  thousand  German 
lansquenets,  which  were  retained  under  the  banner  of 
France,  ignorant  that  their  prince  had  despatched  his  orders 
for  their  withdrawal.  Seven  thousand  other  troops,  led  by 
the  Bastard  of  Cleves  and  others,  were  to  accompany  this 
force,  and  were  to  be  succeeded  by  the  main  body  of  gen- 
darmerie. The  gate  of  San  Giovanni,  the  only  one  which 
the  Brescians  kept  open,  was  to  be  watched  by  the  Count 
d'Alegre,  to  prevent  all  egress  from  that  quarter.  The 
other  gates  of  the  town  were  all  walled  up  securely. 

Such  was  the  general  disposition  of  the  assailing  forces, 
to  which,  after  all  the  captains  had  agreed.  Bayard  opposed 
a  single  objection  :  "  With  your  lordship's  leave,"  he  said 
to  the  duke,  *'  and  that  of  the  other  gentlemen,  there  is  one 
thing  necessary  to  be  attended  to,  of  which  nothing  has 
been  said.  You  propose  to  send  my  Lord  of  Molart  to 
force  the  first  bamer.  Now,  while  T  feel  quite  sure  that 
he  will  do  his  devoir  as  well  as  any  of  us,  yet  if  the  enemy 
understand  fighting,  and  this  we  are  always  to  suppose, 
he  will  be  sure  not  only  to  put  his  best  men  forward  to 
this  encounter,  but  his  arquebusiers  along  with  them. 
Now,  on  such  occasions,  it  is  of  the  last  moment  never  to 
give  back.  If,  then,  it  so  happen  that  the  Venetians 
repulse  these,  our  infantry,  gi-eat  disorder  would  ensue 
among  them  if  they  are  left  without  a  sufficient  body 
of  gendaiTns  for  their  support.  I  am  of  opinion,  therefore, 
that  the  Lord  of  Molart  should  be  accompanied  by  an 
hundred  or  an  hundred  and  fifty  horsemen,  who  will  sustain 


PROFFER    OF    HAZARDOUS    SERVICE.  257 

the  shock  better  than  infantry,  who  are  arnied  after  a  dif- 
ferent fashion."  The  answer  of  the  duke  can  only  be 
understood  by  a  due  regard  to  the  very  different  duties 
which  in  those  days  were  assigned  to  the  separate  orders 
of  troops  in  an  army.  The  cavaky  were  a  nobility. 
Their  duties  involved  that  species  of  daring  and  adventure 
which  chivalry  had  assigned  only  to  noblemen  and  gentle 
blood.  The  infantry  belonged  to  a  wholly  inferior  sei-vice. 
We  may  remember  the  ambition  of  the  adventurer,  Captain 
Jacquin  Caumont,  belonging  to  these  very  foot-bands  of 
Molart,  to  prove  to  the  Duke  de  Nemours  that  he  merited 
promotion  to  the  horse.  We  shall  shortly  see  something 
more  of  Captain  Jacquin,  and  shall  be  reminded  of  the 
prediction  of  the  astrologer  of  Carpi.  Meanwhile,  the 
reply  of  the  duke  to  Bayard,  while  acknowledging  the 
justness  of  this  representation,  avowed  the  difficulty  of  its 
being  complied  with.  *'  Truly,  you  are  right,  ray  Lord  of 
Bayard ;  but  where  is  the  captain  of  gendarms  who  will 
expose  himself  to  the  fire  of  the  arquebusiers  ]"  "  I  will 
undertake  this  duty,  an  it  please  you,"  was  the  reply  of 
Bayard,  "  and  will  venture  to  assure  you  that  the  company 
of  whom  I  have  the  command  will  do  no  discredit  to  the 
king  or  to  the  service." 

Verily  this  was  a  hazardous  adventure,  and  the  captains 
regarded  each  other  in  some  amazement  at  a  proffer  which 
involved  so  much  peril.  The  duke  hesitated  to  comply 
with  the  proposal ;  but  Bayard,  insisting  upon  the  charge, 
finally  obtained  it.  The  reply  of  the  ganison  to  the  sum- 
mons of  suiTender  being  a  defiance,  De  Foix  exclaimed  to 
his  captains — **  Now,  gentlemen,  we  have  only  to  perform 
well,  and  show  ourselves  gallant  comrades.  Let  us  march 
upon  the  enemy  in  the  name  of  God  and  St.  Denis  !"  The 
words  enflame  the  ardor  of  our  ancient  chronicler,  who  tells 
us  that,  with  their  utterance,  the  trumpets,  the  tabours,  and 
the  clarions,  sounded  long  and  gloriously  to  the  charge; 
"  so  that  the  hair  of  the  cowardly  stood  on  end,  while  the 

Y* 


258  ANDREA    GRITTI. 

hearts  of  the  brave  swelled  in  their  bosoms."  In  the 
morning  of  the  19th  day  of  February,  1512,  the  gamson, 
in  all  its  force,  darted  from  its  citadel  to  the  attack;  while 
the  Duke  de  Nemours  advanced  with  all  his  army  against 
the  ramparts.  With  their  shouts  came  the  shots  from  the 
town,  one  of  which  is  described  as  passing  miraculously 
through  the  troop,  which  immediately  surrounded  the  French 
general,  without  harming  a  single  person.  A  slight  rain 
had  fallen  the  night  before,  which  made  the  ground — which 
sloped  from  the  castle  to  the  town — -exceeding  slippery,  so 
that  it  was  difficult  for  the  assailants  to  keep  their  feet. 
The  Duke  de  Nemours  found  a  remedy  against  this  annoy- 
ance by  throwing  off  his  shoes ;  and  many  of  his  chief 
captains  did  the  same.  Such  an  event  as  that  of  a  gen- 
eralissimo going  barefooted  into  battle  is  new  to  modem 
chivalry.  Meanwhile,  the  Lord  of  Molart,  with  his  infantry, 
attended  by  Captain  Heri gorge  and  his  skirmishers,  press- 
ed forward  to  the  first  ban-iers  of  the  town  with  sufficient 
spirit.  They  were  accompanied  by  Bayard,  with  his  men- 
at-arms,  on  foot.  These  were  no  ordinary  infantry.  They 
were  not  only  veterans,  but  many  of  them  were  captains, 
or  had  been  so ;  but  who  preferred  the  lead  of  the  "  good 
knight"  to  being  in  command  themselves.  They  drew 
nigh  to  the  ramparts  under  a  shower  of  bullets,  that  came 
thick  as  hail  from  arquebuse  and  artillery.  Here  the  fight 
began  most  fei-vently.  The  Venetians  fought  passing  well; 
and,  for  awhile,  the  cry  of  "  San  Marco,"  sounded  as  cheerily 
from  within  as  that  of  France  and  Bayard  from  without. 
The  provveditore,  Andrea  Gritti,  found  his  true  position 
here.  He  encouraged  his  men  with  all  his  eloquence  and 
by  the  bravest  example. 

*'  Be  firm — hold  your  gi-ound,  my  men,"  said  he  to  them 
in  his  native  tongue.  *'  Only  be  firm,  and  these  Frenchmen 
will  soon  be  weary.  But  for  that  Bayard,  they  had  never 
approached  us  so  nearly!"  But  the  Frenchmen  did  not 
tire  so  soon  as  the  A^enetians.     The  thunder  of  the  assault 


BAYARD  GAINS  THE  RAMPARTS  AND  IS  WOUNDED.  259 

drowned  the  noise  of  the  arquebusiers,  and,  hailing  the 
moment  of  their  increased  feebleness,  Bayard  leapt  the 
ramparts  first,  crying  out  to  his  comrades  to  follow.  "  In 
upon  them,  gentlemen — they  are  overcome,  they  are  ours." 
More  than  a  thousand  men  followed  the  daring  cavalier,  and 
the  first  barriers  were  quickly  won.  But  Bayard  himself 
had  fallen.  The  thrust  of  a  pike,  which  greeted  him  as  he 
bounded  over  the  ramparts,  pierced  his  thigh.  The  stroke 
was  so  well  delivered,  the  shaft  had  penetrated  so  deeply, 
that  the  wooden  part  was  shivered,  and  the  iron  remained 
in  the  wound,  causing  him  such  anguish  that  he  believed 
the  hurt  to  be  mortal.  Even  as  he  fell,  he  cried  to  the  Lord 
of  Molart  to  march  forward.  "  The  town  is  gained,  com- 
panion— on  with  your  people — as  for  me,  I  can  go  no  far- 
ther. I  am  slain."  The  blood  gushing  from  his  wound  in 
a  torrent,  after  the  withdrawal  of  the  pikehead,  seemed  to 
confirm  his  words.  He  was  borne  out  of  the  press  of  bat- 
tle by  two  of  his  archers,  who  tore  off  their  shirts  that  they 
might  get  cloth  to  stanch  his  wounds.  Bitterly  lamenting 
the  fall  of  his  friend  and  comrade,  the  Lord  of  Molart  nev- 
ertheless hurried  forward  in  obedience  to  his  orders.  As 
the  rumor  spread  that  the  Lord  of  Bayard  was  slain — the 
"  Good  Knight,  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche'^ — the  "  Flower 
of  the  French  Chivalry" — the  "  Mirror  of  Knighthood" — 
for  such  were  the  titles  to  fame  that  his  name  had  already 
won — it  aroused  the  fierce  desire  for  vengeance  on  the 
part  of  his  followers,  who,  so  far  from  being  discouraged  by 
the  event,  soon  forgot  all  their  fears  in  their  fury.  Gaston 
de  Foix,  by  whom  Bayard  was  greatly  beloved,  felt  the 
blow  as  severely  as  if  it  had  fallen  upon  his  own  breast. 
"  Ah  !  gentlemen,  my  friends,"  said  he,  **  shall  we  not  avenge 
upon  these  wretches  the  death  of  the  most  accomplished 
knight  in  the  world]  Let  us  do  our  best  for  it !"  This 
spirit  enflamed  the  bosom  of  the  meanest  foot-soldier.  The 
force  led  on  by  Molart  and  Herigorge,  meanwhile,  had 
penetrated  to  the  great  square  of  the  city ;  where  a  terrible 


260  BRESCIA    STORMED    AND    SACKED. 

conflict  succeeded.  Hither  followed  the  Gennan  lansque- 
nets of  Captain  Zemberg;  while  the  Count  Luigi  Avoga- 
dro,  despairing  of  the  event,  mshing,  at  the  head  of  two 
hundred  horse,  through  the  gate  of  St.  Nasaro,  opened  a 
passage  to  the  rest  of  the  troops  under  the  Duke  de  Ne- 
mours, of  which  the  latter  promptly  took  advantage.  The 
combat  was  still  waged  with  fearful  terrors  within  the  city. 
The  citizens  and  the  women  fought  from  the  housetops 
and  the  windows,  casting  stones,  bricks,  and  scalding- 
water  upon  the  assailants.  But  the  timely  appearance  of 
De  Foix  finished  the  struggle.  Brescia  was  taken  after  a 
dreadful  struggle,  and  the  vanquished  were  subjected  to 
all  the  horrible  penalties  which  usually  followed,  in  those 
days,  the  excitement  of  such  a  conflict.  Seven  or  eight 
thousand  of  the  Venetians  perished  in  the  great  square 
alone,  and  every  street  and  avenue  diverging  from  this 
centre  were  strewn  with  the  corses  of  the  slain.  Andrea 
Gritti,  the  provveditore,  was  made  prisoner  and  admitted 
to  mercy ;  but  such  was  not  the  fortune  of  Luigi  Avo- 
gadro,  who,  captured  in  the  effort  to  escape,  paid  for  his 
treason  with  his  head.  More  than  twenty  thousand  per- 
sons perished  in  the  defence  and  taking  of  this  city.  It 
is  to  the  credit  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours  that  he  strove 
sincerely  and  earnestly  to  arrest  the  horrors  which  fol- 
lowed upon  the  capture  of  the  place.  These  continued,  in 
some  degree,  for  several  days,  in  spite  of  all  his  endeavora. 
The  mercenaries  of  the  army  were  too  numerous  to  be  re- 
strained without  great  delay  and  difficulty;  and  were  quite 
too  adroit  for  easy  detection.  The  monasteries  were  forced 
and  plundered;  and  though  several  of  the  soldiers  were  sum- 
marily executed  for  these  and  other  crimes,  the  evil  scarce- 
ly found  any  mitigation  in  their  seizure  and  final  punish- 
ment. Rapine  and  brutality  were  only  an-ested  by  re- 
moving the  army  from  the  city  to  its  former  encampments. 
The  conquest,  from  these  circumstances,  was  perhaps  quite 
as  injurious  to  the  fortunes  of  the  French  in  Italy  as  a  de- 


VICTORIES    OF    GASTON    DE    FOIX.  261 

feat  would  have  been.  The  odium  with  which  they  were 
regarded,  armed  the  inhabitants  against  them ;  while  the 
spoils  with  which  they  were  enriched  by  the  plunder  of 
the  city,  beguiled  thousands  from  the  army,  to  their  own 
homes,  at  a  moment  when  their  presence  was  most  neces- 
saiy.  Of  the  conduct  and  valor  displayed  by  the  French 
in  this  engagement  there  has  never  been  but  one  opinion. 
That  the  path  was  first  opened  by  Bayard  is  equally  ad- 
mitted ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  had  he  not  been 
stricken  down  in  the  moment  of  his  successful  entrance  over 
the  baftTiers,  his  courage,  humanity,  and  vast  influence 
over  the  troops,  would  have  tended  greatly  to  the  preven- 
tion of  those  excesses  by  which  the  French  arms  were  dis- 
honored. But  for  the  wrong  done  to  humanity,  the  suc- 
cesses of  Gaston  de  Foix  would  have  been  among  the  most 
admirable  examples  that  heroism  has  ever  furnished  to  man- 
kind. In  fifteen  days  this  young  conqueror  had  raised  the 
siege  of  Bologna,  had  defeated  several  bodies  of  the  allied 
troops,  and,  in  the  teeth  of  a  vastly  superior  foe,  had  re- 
gained, after  a  carnage  the  most  terrible,  a  populous  and 
strongly  fortified  city.  Well  might  the  Venetians  begin  to 
tremble.  The  city  and  district  of  Bergamo,  without  wait- 
ing for  the  approach  of  the  French,  apprised  of  the  fate  of 
Brescia,  at  once  declared  for  the  conqueror;  and  it  was 
witli  reason  that  the  allies  feared  that  the  whole  continental 
possessions  of  the  Venetian  republic  would  follow  the  ex- 
ample.    Let  us  now  return  to  our  wounded  chevalier. 


^\l[\ 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Bayard  was  supposed  to  have  received  his  mortal 
wound  when  he  fell  after  the  conquest  of  the  barriers.  He 
himself  was  at  first  disposed  to  think  that  such  was  the  case ; 
but  while  the  storm  of  battle  was  still  raging,  he  very  un- 
willingly submitted  to  the  restraints  of  his  attendants  who 
bore  him  out  of  the  press  of  danger.  A  door,  tora  from  one 
of  the  contiguous  houses,  formed  a  rude  litter  upon  which 
he  was  laid.  In  this  manner,  he  was  borae  by  his  archers 
to  a  goodly  mansion  in  the  neighborhood,  which  was  open- 
ed at  their  summons.  This  house  was  the  residence  of  a 
rich  gentleman  who  was  absent,  and  whose  fate  was  as  yet 
unknown.  His  wife,  a  noble  matron,  having  two  fair  daugh- 
ters, was  concealed  with  them,  after  a  simple  fashion,  in  a  bay- 
loft  and  beneath  the  hay.  At  the  knock  of  our  archers,  com- 
mending herself  to  God,  the  good  woman  proceeded  to  open 
the  door.     This  was  an  act  of  the  greatest  peril,  in  that  mo- 


THE    BRESCIAN    MATRON.  263 

ment  of  Storm  and  rapine;  since  it  was  easy  to  suppose  that 
those  only  would  desire  entrance  into  such  a  mansion  as  it 
would  be  most  important  to  keep  out.  It  is  not  improbable, 
however,  that  the  wife  thought  upon  her  husband.  It  might 
be  his  knock  that  she  heard,  and  the  danger  might  be  im- 
minent. Arming  herself,  therefore,  with  the  courage  of  a 
Roman  matron,  she  threw  wide  her  portals  to  our  wound- 
ed knight.  He  had  fortunately  retained  his  consciousness 
and  sense.  His  gentle  accents  reassured  her.  As  soon 
as  he  was  admitted,  he  caused  the  doors  to  be  once 
more  fastened,  and  assigned  to  a  couple  of  his  archers  the 
duty  of  guarding  it.  "  On  your  lives,"  said  he,  "  see  that 
none  enter  here  but  my  own  people.  I  am  sure  that  when 
it  is  once  known  that  this  is  now  my  abode,  none  other  will 
presume  to  enter.  Your  spoils  have  been  lessened  by  your 
attendance  upon  me,  but  let  not  this  concern  you.  You 
shall  lose  nothing  by  your  devotion  to  my  service." 

Our  knight  was  conducted  by  the  lady  of  the  house  into 
a  very  fine  apartment,  and  lodged  with  as  much  comfort  as 
splendor.  When  his  case  had  been  well  considered,  she 
fell  upon  her  knees  before  him,  and  addressed  him  in  the 
French  tongue.  "  Noble  sir,  to  you  belongs  this  dwelling 
and  all  therein.  It  is  yours,  I  well  know,  by  the  laws  of 
war.  But  O !  sir,  be  merciful,  and  spare  the  lives  and 
honor  of  the  weak  women  who  are  left  to  keep  it,  myself 
and  my  two  virgin  daughters !" 

The  noble  knight,  her  guest,  who,  says  our  chronicler — 
never  once  harbored  a  thought  of  evil — though  suffering 
grievous  pain  from  his  hurts,  yet  reassured  her  in  the  ten- 
derest  manner.  "  Madam,"  said  he,  **  it  may  be  that  I  shall 
not  recover  from  this  wound  by  which  I  am  sorely  stricken, 
and  I  may  promise  nothing  for  your  safety  when  I  shall  cease 
to  be  conscious  of  your  danger ;  but  as  surely  as  I  live,  and 
while  I  live,  no  harm  shall  befal  your  daughters  or  yourself 
Let  them  keep  their  chamber — expose  them  not  unnecessa 
rily  to  evil  eyes — and  I  may  assure  you  confidently  that 


264  THE    WOUNDED    KNIGHT. 

while  I  am  your  guest,  no  man  shall  presume  to  enter  any 
apartment  against  your  pleasure.  Let  me  tell  you  that  you 
have  one  beneath  your  roof  who  will  not  only  not  plunder 
you  himself,  but  will  not  suffer  other  hands  to  do  so.  You 
shall  know  him  by  nothing  but  the  courtesies  and  civilities 
of  the  gentleman." 

Verily,  the  noble  dame  was  greatly  comforted  when  she 
heard  this  language.  There  was  that  in  the  frank,  ingenu- 
ous countenance  of  our  suffering  knight,  to  satisfy  her  that 
his  words  were  sooth — the  native  utterance  of  a  noble  soul, 
and  not  simply  extorted  from  him  by  a  sense  of  weakness 
and  anguish.  She  felt,  then,  how  important  to  her  and  to 
her  young  daughters  was  the  safety  of  one  who  could  prom- 
ise so  confidently  for  her  protection,  and  upon  whose  words 
she  felt  so  willing  to  rely;  and,  under  the  conduct  of  one  of 
the  archers,  she  hunied  to  a  neighboring  house,  in  search 
of  a  skilful  surgeon,  that  the  wounds  of  her  lodger  might 
be  dressed.  Fortunately,  she  succeeded  in  soon  finding  him. 
The  inspection  of  Bayard's  hurt  showed  it  to  be  large  and 
deep,  but  not  mortal ;  and,  at  the  second  dressing,  the  sur- 
geon of  the  Duke  de  Nemours  was  present  and  confirmed 
the  decision  of  the  Brescian.  The  duke  himself  found  out 
the  place  of  refuge  of  our  good  knight,  and  went  to  visit 
him  daily,  for  a  week,  saying  to  him  at  the  end  of  that  time, 
that  he  must  hurry  with  all  despatch  to  get  himself  cured, 
as  it  was  highly  probable  that  he  should  have  to  give  battle 
to  the  Spaniards  within  the  month.  "  And,"  added  the 
duke  fervently,  "I  had  rather  lose  my  whole  estate  than 
lose  you  from  that  battle.  My  faith  is  in  you,  my  friend — 
in  you  and  your  fortune." 

"  If  there  be  a  battle  in  that  time,"  was  the  answer  of 
Bayard,  "  you  will  see  me  present,  though  I  am  earned 
thither  on  a  litter." 

Many  presents  from  the  duke  accompanied  or  fol- 
lowed his  visits — among  them  a  purse  of  five  hundred 
crowns,    which   our    good    knight    divided    between    the 


THE    PROGRESS    OF    THE    WAR.  265 

two  archers  who  had  kept  his  house  while  he  lay- 
wounded. 

The  city  being  at  length  relieved  from  the  desperate  ad- 
venturers by  whom  the  worst  ravages  had  been  committed 
— though  only  with  gi'eat  difficulty  and  after  several  terrible 
examples — and  order  being  somewhat  restored,  Bayard 
called  his  hostess  to  his  bedside,  and  inquired  after  her  hus- 
band. The  poor  lady,  bathed  in  tears,  answered  that  "  she 
knew  not  whether  he  was  alive  or  dead."  Her  hope  was 
that  he  had  found  concealment  in  a  certain  monastery  where 
he  had  many  acquaintance.  Bayard  immediately  obtained 
the  necessary  directions  and  despatched  his  archers  in 
search  of  the  husband.  He  was  found,  and  conducted  in 
safety  to  the  dwelling  where  our  good  knight  played  the 
host  gi'aciously,  and  gave  the  still  trembling  citizen  a  cheer- 
ly  welcome.  "  Be  not  cast  down,  my  friend,"  said  he, 
"  your  wife  has  lodged  none  but  friends." 

For  nearly  five  weeks  was  Bayard  confined  by  his 
wound  in  Brescia,  without  ever  leaving  his  couch  ;  not  suf- 
fering from  inferior  surgery,  or  bad  attendance,  for  of  nei- 
ther of  these  things  could  he  complain.  But  his  hurt, 
though  not  mortal,  was  a  severe  and  dangerous  one,  re- 
quiring time  and  patience,  as  well  as  proper  treatment. 
Now,  time  and  patience  were,  of  all  things,  those  of  which, 
just  at  this  moment,  our  captain  had  the  least  to  spare. 
Each  day  brought  him  tidings  from  the  opposing  arms, 
which  fretted  his  soul,  at  the  expense  of  his  wound.  King 
Louis  of  France,  delighted  with  the  conquests  of  his  ne- 
phew, the  noble  Gaston  de  Foix,  was  yet  eager  that  he 
should  follow  them  up.  He  saw  that,  while  the  Spaniards 
continued  to  occupy  the  plains  of  Lombardy,  his  State  of 
Milan  would  never  be  secure.  His  policy  was  to  remove 
the  seat  of  war  fi'om  this  region,  and  throw  the  expense  of 
supporting  the  struggle  upon  the  enemy.  It  was,  also,  essen- 
tial that  his  troops  should  find  their  way  back  to  France, 
with  all  possible  despatch  ;  the  coasts  of  that  country  being 

Z 


266  THE    OPPOSING    ARMIES. 

threatened  by  great  preparations  which  were  making  by 
the  King  of  England.  Gaston  de  Foix  was  not  unwiUing 
to  respond  to  the  wishes  of  his  uncle.  His  own  genius 
required  rapidity,  as  well  as  boldness  of  execution,  in  his 
warlike  progresses.  He,  too,  had  resolved  upon  doing  his 
utmost  to  bring  about  a  rapid  finish  to  the  war.  Assembling 
his  troops,  therefore,  horse  and  foot  (having  left  a  sufficient 
gari'ison  in  Brescia),  he  returned  to  Bologna,  where  he  was 
joined  by  the  Duke  of  FeiTara,  with  a  large  body  of 
troops  and  an  extensive  train  of  artillery,  making  his 
army  amount  to  a  splendid  force  of  twenty-five  thousand 
men.  With  these  troops  he  pushed  rapidly  forward  to  the 
meeting  of  the  allied  forces.  The  Pope  and  the  Seignory 
of  Venice,  though  necessarily  alarmed  at  the  fearful  prog- 
ress which  the  French  had  recently  made,  yet  conthmed 
to  maintain  a  firm  and  unyielding  aspect.  The  former 
had  succeeded,  by  a  bribe  of  fifty  thousand  florins,  in 
buying  off,  from  the  alliance  with  Louis,  the  mercenary 
Emperor  Maximilian,  who,  thus  tempted,  concluded  a  truce 
for  ten  months  with  the  Venetians.  This  event  furnished 
an  additional  motive  to  De  Foix,  in  pressing  the  war  to  a 
final  issue,  particularly  while  the  morale  of  his  troops  was 
heightened  by  their  fresh  and  frequent  victories.  The 
allied  forces  were  scarcely  less  numerous  than  those  of 
France.  They  were  commanded  by  the  Cardinal  Legate 
de  Medici,  and  the  Viceroy  Cardona,  and  formed  one  of 
the  best  appointed  armies  that  had  ever  been  seen  in 
Italy.  Fifteen  hundred  men-at-arms,  eight  hundred  of 
whom  rode  harhed  horses,*  of  the  best  and  most  select 
condition,  and  were  clad  in  gold  and  azure,  made  a  sight 
to  ravish  the  very  soul  of  the  lover  of  chivalrous  sights. 
Three  thousand  light-horse,  and  eighteen  thousand  foot, 
rendered  the  allied  forces  a  power  to  be  approached  with 
respect ;  and  made  it  doubtful  whether,  even  in  the  face 

*  Richly  clad,  and  partially  armed  with  breastplate  and  points,  as  in  the 
tourney. 


bayard's  impatience.  267 

of  such  a  foe  as  Gaston  de  Foix,  it  was  proper  to  avoid 
the  conflict.  But  such  was  the  issue  of  the  deliberations 
among  the  captains  of  this  host.  It  was  thought  more  ad- 
visable to  harass  the  French  forces,  and  cut  off  their 
supplies,  than  to  risk  the  fate  of  Italy  on  a  single  battle. 
They  retired,  slowly,  before  the  face  of  their  enemies,  and 
avoided  the  conflict  which  Gaston  de  Foix  as  earnestly 
continued  to  seek.  At  this  play  of  hide-and-seek  the  two 
armies  continued  for  three  weeks,  or  longer.  Frequent 
skirmishes  ensued  between  their  outposts  and  scouts  ;  scarce 
a  day  passing  which  did  not  afford  prisoners  for  ransom  to 
one  or  the  other  party.  But,  for  any  general  engagement, 
the  allies  were  averse.  Encamped  strongly,  they  baffled 
all  the  attempts  of  the  French  to  bring  them  to  action ; 
and,  in  despair  of  them,  at  last,  and  not  to  remain  inactive, 
the  eager  and  impatient  De  Foix  turned  his  arms  in  the 
direction  of  Ravenna,  which  the  Spaniards  and  Italians  had 
strongly  occupied.  In  his  progress  in  this  direction,  he 
stormed  the  fortress  of  Russi,  putting  more  than  a  thou- 
sand persons  to  the  sword ;  then,  without  waste  of  time, 
he  pressed  forward  to  the  prouder  quany,  upon  which  his 
eagle  eye  was  fixed. 

Such  were  the  tidings  that  came  to  Bayard  in  his  weary 
chamber,  and  they  stung  him  into  a  defiance  of  his  surgeon. 
He  resolved  within  himself,  that,  if  not  cured  of  his  hurts, 
it  was  high  time  that  he  should  be  so.  Leaving  his  couch 
accordingly,  he  tottered  over  his  room  to  see  whether  he 
could  walk  or  not.  He  found  himself  veiy  feeble,  but  the 
spirit  striving  within  him  determined  that  he  should  be 
strong.  He  sent  for  his  surgeon,  and  said  to  him — 
"  Prithee,  my  friend,  say  to  me,  honestly,  what  will  be  the 
danger  of  my  setting  forth  upon  a  journey.  I  seem  to  my- 
self quite  cured,  or  very  nearly  so ;  and  in  my  own  judg- 
ment, believe  me,  to  tarry  longer  here  in  this  durance, 
which  frets  me  exceedingly,  will  do  me  much  more  harm 
than  good.'* 


268  THE    HOSTESS    OF    BAYARD. 

The  surgeon  had  long  since  been  aware  of  the  good 
knight's  impatience.  His  servants  had  ah-eady  apprised 
him  how  extreme  was  his  sohcitude  about  the  events  of  the 
war,  and  how  intense  was  his  anxiety  lest  he  should  fail  to 
be  present  at  the  meeting  of  the  opposing  armies.  He  took 
these  things  into  the  account,  and,  after  due  reflection,  con- 
curred somewhat  in  opinion  with  his  patient.  "  Your 
wound  is  not  yet  entirely  closed,  my  lord ;  but  all  within  is 
healed.  We  will  dress  it  once  more,  and  I  will  provide 
your  barber  with  an  ointment  which  will  keep  it  from  ex- 
asperation. The  worst  part  of  the  wound  is  at  the  top  of 
your  thigh;  and  does  not  come  in  contact  with  the  saddle. 
With  care,  therefore,  there  is  little  danger." 

The  answer  of  this  oracle,  according  to  the  "  Loyal 
Servant,"  gave  our  good  knight  more  pleasure  than  the 
sudden  acquisition  often  thousand  crowns  could  have  done. 
The  surgeon  was  recompensed  and  dismissed,  and  Bayard 
proceeded  to  make  his  preparations  for  departure  within 
two  days.  His  people  were  assembled  for  this  pui-pose, 
and  received  his  instructions,  and  his  excellent  hostess 
was  apprised  that  she  was  now  to  lose  her  captor  and 
protector.  According  to  the  laws  of  war,  herself,  husband, 
daughters,  and  household,  were  all  his  property.  The 
goods  and  chattels  which  she  held  were  held  only  in  trust 
for  him.  He  might  take  them  and  herself — all — with  him, 
or  dispose  of  them  to  others  at  his  departure.  This  had 
been  the  fate  of  her  neighbors  who  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  conquerors  ;  all  of  whom  had  been  compelled 
to  ransom  themselves  at  high  prices.  It  is  true  she  had 
learned  to  know  our  knight,  as  an  exception  among  his 
fellows.  His  fame  had  already  reached  her  ears,  and  her 
own  eyes  had  witnessed  his  benevolence  and  nobleness  of 
heart.  But  she  still  expected  to  pay  her  own  and  the  ransom 
of  her  daughters,  which,  if  her  guest  tliought  pro]ier,  might 
be  assessed  at  ten  or  twelve  thousand  crowns.  Her  income 
was  but  two  thousand ;  and  though  he  had  said  nothing  to 


HER    TRIBUTE.  269 

her  about  a  ransom,  she  yet  prepared  to  make  him  such  a 
present  as  she  thought  might  silence  him  on  that  subject, 
particulai'ly  as  she  built,  in  a  great  degree,  upon  his  mag- 
nanimous and  generous  nature. 

On  the  morning,  therefore,  which  was  assigned  for  his 
departure,  she  entered  his  apartment,  followed  by  one  of 
her  servants,  bearing  a  little  casket  of  steel.  Bayard  had 
been  exercising  his  leg  by  gradual  promenading,  and  was 
now  resting  upon  a  chair.  The  excellent  woman  fell  on 
her  knees  before  him,  when  he  instantly  raised  her  kindly, 
and  would  not  suffer  her  to  say  a  word  till  he  had  seated 
her  beside  him.  She  then  opened  her  business  with  the 
following  language  :  "  The  favor,  my  lord,  which  God  hath 
shown  me  in  directing  you  to  this  house  of  yours  on  the 
day  when  Brescia  was  taken,  hath  been  the  saving  of  our 
lives  and  the  preservation  of  my  children's  chastity,  which 
is  much  more  precious  to  them  than  their  lives.  We  have 
been  saved  also  from  all  oifence,  and  your  people  have 
treated  us  with  the  most  perfect  courtesy.  We  have  lost 
nothing,  and  all  that  has  been  furnished  by  us  hath  been 
paid  for.  My  lord,  we  are  all  your  prisoners.  This  house 
and  these  goods  are  yours,  to  be  dealt  with  and  disposed 
of  as  you  think  proper.  But  I  have  learned  to  know  the 
unparalleled  nobleness  of  your  heart,  and  I  am  now  come 
humbly  to  supplicate  your  compassion,  and  to  implore  that 
you  will  deal  with  us  with  your  accustomed  liberality. 
Here,  my  lord,  is  a  little  gift  which  I  have  brought  you, 
and  which  I  entreat  you  to  take  in  good  part." 

Thus  saying,  she  opened  the  casket  which  the  servant 
offered,  and  displayed  it  filled  with  goodly  golden  ducats. 
To  her  surprise,  the  good  knight,  to  whom  money  had 
never  yet  offered  any  temptations,  burst  into  a  fit  of  pleasant 
laughter.  "  Madam,"  said  he,  "  how  many  ducats,  think 
you,  are  there  in  this  box  ]"  It  was  now  the  fear  of  the 
worthy  matron  that  he  despised  the  poverty  of  her  gift, 
regarding  the  ducats  as  quite  too  few  to  make  them  ac- 


270  HOW    ACCEPTED. 

ceptable  by  way  of  ransom.  She  answered  hesitatingly — 
"  My  Lord,  there  are  but  two  thousand  and  five  hundred  ; 
but  if  these  do  not  content  you,  we  will  bring  yet  more." 
But  the  generous  and  gentle  knight  soon  disabused  her  of 
her  fears.  "  On  my  honor,  madam,"  said  he,  "  had  you 
brought  me  an  hundred  thousand,  I  should  not  be  so  much 
beholden  to  you,  as  I  am,  for  the  kindly  treatment  and  the 
careful  tendance  which  I  have  had  at  your  hands.  Be 
sure,  madam,  that,  wherever  I  may  be,  and  while  God 
permits  me  to  live,  you  shall  always  have  a  gentleman  at 
your  service.  As  for  your  ducats,  I  will  have  none  of 
them.  I  thank  you,  but  take  them  back.  All  my  life 
long,  I  have  loved  men  better  than  money  ;  and  I  shall 
leave  you  quite  as  well  satisfied  as  if  you  had  placed  all 
this  goodly  town  at  my  disposal." 

The  heart  of  the  good  woman  was  deeply  touched  and 
somewhat  wounded,  as  well  as  astonished,  by  this  rejection 
of  her  gift.  She  again  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and  he 
again  raised  her  to  his  side.  She  urged  her  present  upon 
him,  with  a  new  form  of  entreaty.  "  My  lord,  I  implore 
you  to  receive  our  gift.  I  should  for  ever  esteem  myself 
the  most  unfortunate  of  women,  if  one  to  whom  I  owe  so 
much  of  courtesy,  forbearance,  and  great  goodness,  should 
scorn  to  take  this  poor  tribute  of  our  gratitude  and  affec- 
tion." This  pleading  changed  the  character  of  the  pro- 
ceeding. The  heart  of  the  woman  was  now  so  clearly  in 
her  gift — it  was  so  evidently  proffered  by  her  esteem  and 
love,  and  not  extorted  by  her  fears,  that  Bayard  replied — 
"  Well,  madam,  since  you  so  earnestly  desire  it,  I  take  it 
for  love  of  you ;  but  go  and  fetch  your  daughters,  that  I 
may  bid  them  farewell." 

Overjoyed  that  she  had  thus  attained  her  object,  the  lady 
disappeared,  and  returned  almost  immediately  with  her 
daughters.  These  virgins  were  arrived  at  womanhood, 
and  were  exceeding  comely  to  behold.  They  were  ami- 
able damsels,  and  had  been  well  taught  in  the  various  arts 


HOW    APPROPRIATED.  271 

which  belong  to  women.  They,  as  well  as  their  mother, 
had  attended  our  knight  during  his  sickness — ^had  watched 
beside  him^  and  solaced  his  sadness  and  weariness  with 
those  sweet  attentions  which  none  can  bestow  so  well  as 
the  gentle  sex.  They  wrought  with  their  needles  beside 
him,  as  he  lay  upon  his  couch,  and  sung  to  him  songs  of 
chivalry,  in  which  he  took  great  deUght,  to  the  music 
of  lute  and  virginal,  which  they  knew  deftly  how  to  finger. 
They  did  not,  therefore,  come  before  him  as  strangers, 
when  they  came  to  receive  his  adieus.  Before  they  ap- 
peared, however.  Bayard  had  busied  himself  in  dividing 
the  money  which  the  mother  had  given  him  into  three 
parts, — two  of  a  thousiand  crowns  each,  and  the  third  of 
the  remaining  five  hundred.  When  they  came,  they  threw 
themselves  on  their  knees  before  him,  but  he  immediately 
raised  them.  The  mother  said,  "  My  lord,  these  two 
maidens,  who  owe  all  that  is  dear  to  them  in  life  to  your 
generosity,  now  come  to  declare  their  thanks  and  gratitude, 
and  to  take  leave  of  you.  They,  as  well  as  I,  shall  be  al- 
ways bound  to  entreat  the  blessing  of  God  upon  your  head." 

The  tears  gathered  in  the  eyes  of  Bayard,  as  he  remem- 
bered their  kindness,  and  beheld  their  humihty,  "  Dear 
young  maidens,"  said  he,  "  it  is  I  who  have  to  return 
thanks,  and  not  you.  How  much  do  I  owe  you  for  iho 
solace  of  your  sweet  company,  and  most  grateful  atten- 
tions !  I  shall  be  your  debtor  as  long  as  I  live.  Alas !  I 
have  no  exquisite  toys,  such  as  become  young  ladies  to  re- 
tain as  tokens.  We,  men-at-arms,  are  not  wont  to  be  thus 
provided.  You  must,  therefore,  suffer  me  to  throw  a 
thousand  of  these  crowns  into  each  of  your  laps,  which 
your  good  mother  hath  been  pleased  to  give  me,  and  which 
I  bestow,  as  a  marriage  portion,  upon  you.  From  you  I 
ask  nothing  but  your  prayers  in  my  behalf." 

He  threw  the  ducats  into  their  aprons,  in  spite  of  all 
their  objections.  The  five  hundred  ducats  he  restored  to 
the  mother,  to  be  distributed  in  his  name  among  the  poor 


272  THE    GIFTS    OF    THE    DAMSELS. 

nuns  of  a  convent  which  had  suffered  from  the  pillagers 
when  the  city  was  taken.  Then,  touching  their  hands,  after 
the  fashion  of  Italy,  as  a  sign  of  leave-taking,  he  was  about 
to  turn  away,  when  they  all  again  fell  upon  their  knees 
weeping  bitterly.  The  matron  then,  with  overflowing  heart, 
thus  addressed  him  with  an  apostrophe  which  called  the  red 
blood  into  his  thin,  pale  cheeks :  "  Oh  !  flower  of  all  chival- 
ry, with  whom  none  living  may  compare,  may  our  Blessed 
Saviour  and  Redeemer,  Jesus  Christ,  who  suffered  death  and 
passion  for  all  sinners,  reward  you  in  this  and  the  coming 
life  !"  Here  they  all  left  him,  but  when  he  was  about  to 
mount  his  steed,  the  two  damsels  came  down  to  him,  bring- 
ing each  a  present  which  they  had  wrought  for  him  during 
his  illness.  One  gave  him  an  exquisite  pair  of  bracelets, 
delicately  woven  of  gold  and  silver  threads,  and  the  other 
a  purse  of  crimson  satin  most  curiously  fashioned.  The 
bracelets  he  put  upon  his  arms,  the  purse,  as  was  the  cus- 
tom of  knighthood,  in  his  sleeve ;  the  more  conspicuously  to 
do  honor  to  the  givers.  These,  he  declared  were  more 
precious  to  him  than  ten  thousand  crowns,  and  he  prom- 
ised to  wear  them  while  they  lasted  and  while  he  lived. 
The  parting  was  a  renewed  scene  of  tenderness — of  the 
sweetest  sympathies,  which  were  treasured  fondly  by  mu- 
tual hearts,  and  precious  to  each  as  well  because  of  their 
purity  as  their  fondness.  Bayard  left  Brescia  in  company 
with  his  friend  the  Lord  d'Aubigny,  who,  with  two  or  three 
thousand  other  gentlemen  who  had  been  left  in  garrison, 
was  now  about  to  join  the  aimy  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours 
then  advancing  upon  Ravenna. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  army  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours  had  made  its  ap- 
pearance before  Ravenna  the  very  day  when  Bayard  reach- 
ed the  camp.  His  arrival  w^as  productive  of  as  much  pleas- 
ure among  the  knights  and  captains  as  if  they  had  received 
a  reinforcement  of  ten  thousand  men.  The  welcome  of  the 
duke  himself  was  such  as  made  the  full  heart  of  Bayard 
forget  that  he  was  feeble.  He  felt  more  happy  at  being  in 
the  field,  and  once  more  among  his  ancient  comrades,  than 
if  he  had  suddenly  come  into  possession  of  a  kingdom. 
Such  is  the  language  of  the  chronicler,  who  has  written  his 
biography  in  an  equal  spirit  of  tnith  and  fondness.  It  is 
very  certain  that  his  fame  was  now  so  widely  extended,  and 
of  a  kind  so  superior  to  that  of  most,  if  not  all,  of  his  con- 
temporaries, that  his  very  presence  in  the  camp  inspired 
their  foes  with  apprehension,  while  it  armed  his  friends  and 
comrades  with  fresh  confidence  and  zeal. 

AiTived  under  the  walls  of  Ravenna,  the  Duke  de  Ne- 
mours at  once  assembled  his  captains  for  consultation.  His 
own  nature  demanded  prompt  action  always,  and  his  pres- 
ent necessities  seemed  to  require  it.  Provisions  were  be- 
ginning to  fail  in  camp.  The  Venetians  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  Spaniards  on  the  other,  were  rapidly  cutting  off 
his  supplies  and  circumscribing  the  boundaries  from 
which  they  were  drawn.  Bread  and  wine  were  essential 
in  those  days  to  an  army  in  Italy,  and  the  necessity  of  sub- 
sisting on  mere  meat  and  cheese  was  supposed  to  be  such 
a  hardship  as  might  excuse  impatience  and  discontent 
among  the  troops,  if  not  justify  defection.  There  was  yet 
another  matter  which  coatributed  to  render  it  necessary 


274  JACOB    ZEMBERG. 

that  Gaston  de  Foix  should  do  quickly  with  his  forces  what- 
ever he  designed.  We  have  seen  that  the  Emperor  Max- 
imilian had  been  bought  over  from  the  cause  of  the  French 
by  the  money  and  the  cunning  of  the  Pope.  Now,  there 
happened  to  be  some  five  thousand  German  lansquenets  in 
the  army  of  France,  under  the  command  of  Jacob  Zem- 
berg  and  Philip  of  Friburg,  both  stout  and  excellent  cap- 
tains. To  these,  Maximilian  had  written,  to  retire  from  the 
field,  leaving  the  French  to  continue  the  warfare  by  them- 
selves. One  of  these  letters  had  been  intercepted  by  the 
Duke  de  Nemours ;  and,  with  that  lax  moral  which  war  and 
the  particular  circumstances  of  the  case  appeared  to  justify, 
le  had  taken  care  that  it  should  not  reach  the  person  to 
vvhom  it  was  addressed.  But  the  letter  for  Captain  Zem- 
oerg  came  to  that  officer's  hands.  It  so  happened  that 
Zemberg  was  personally  attached  to  the  French.  He  had 
visited  France,  had  received  some  favors  from  the  noblesse, 
and  probably  from  the  king,  whose  policy  it  had  been  to 
encourage  the  German  and  Swiss  mercenaries ;  and  was 
particularly  fond,  among  other  persons,  of  our  good  knight 
Bayard.  The  intimacy  between  these  two  had  been  of 
long  growth  and  standing,  having  originated  in  the  first  ex- 
pedition of  our  hero,  with  five  or  six  hundred  horse,  against 
Padua,  when  the  emperor,  with  an  army  like  that  of  Xerxes, 
threatened  to  swallow  up  the  fated  city  which  he  in  vain  be- 
sieged. As  soon  as  Zemberg  received  his  letter  from  his 
master,  he  hunied  to  the  tent  of  our  chevalier,  to  whom  he 
related  the  circumstance,  stating  the  cause  of  his  disquiet, 
but  giving  Bayard  to  understand  that  his  instructions  had 
not  been  seen  by  any  person  but  himself  The  contents  re- 
vealed, he  was  very  sure  that  the  greater  number  of  the 
lansquenets  would  refuse  to  fight,  and  retire  to  their  homes 
or  to  the  enemy.  For  himself,  he  declared  that  he  was  de- 
voted to  the  King  of  France — that  he  had  received  his  pay, 
and  would  rather  perish  by  a  thousand  deaths  than  desert 
his  banners  while  they  were  waving  in  the  face  of  his  foes. 


THE    COUNCIL.  275 

But  how  to  manage  his  lansquenets — how  to  keep  them 
from  a  knowledge  of  the  orders  which  he  had  received — 
nay,  would  not  other  commands  reach  them,  and  of  a  more 
imperative  sort,  such  as  would  be  fatal  to  himself,  and  which 
none  of  them  would  dare  to  disobey  1  His  difficulties  were 
freely  declared  to  our  good  knight.  Bayard  seems  to  have 
vei-y  well  understood  the  moving  principle  among  the  na- 
tions who  in  that  day  drove  a  mercenary  trade  in  blood. 
"My  friend,"  said  he,  "you  once  gave  me  to  understand 
that  you  possess  but  little  in  Germany.  Now,  the  King  of 
France  is  powerful  and  rich.  He  can  reward  with  ease 
and  affluence  those  who  serve  him  faithfully.  He  thinks 
much  of  you,  I  am  well  assured.  You  are  a  favorite  of  his 
already.  His  esteem  for  you  will  necessarily  be  augment- 
ed when  he  understands  how  devoted  you  have  been  to  his 
interests.  And  he  shall  know  it  fiora  me,  God  willing, 
though  all  other  tongues  remain  silent.  But,  come  with 
me  to  the  lodgings  of  the  duke.  He  hath  summoned  us  to 
council.  I  will  privately  lay  before  him  the  matter  which 
you  have  shown  me." 

The  council  was  by  no  means  a  harmonious  one.  There 
was  great  diversity  of  opinion.  There  were  some  who 
opposed  themselves  to  risking  every  thing  in  a  battle,  in 
which,  if  lost,  the  whole  of  Italy  would  be  perilled,  and 
their  own  escape  cut  off — with  three  or  four  difficult 
rivers  to  cross,  and  the  forces  of  the  Pope,  of  Spain,  of 
Venice,  the  emperor,  and  the  Swiss — all  combined  for 
their  destruction.  Their  arguments  were  by  no  means 
wanting  in  force,  and  they  were  felt  by  those  who  heard 
them.  In  the  mean  time.  Bayard  had  secretly  communi- 
cated to  Gaston  de  Foix  the  intelligence  conveyed  by 
Captain  Zemberg.  This  showed  the  necessity  of  fighting 
at  once,  before  the  requisition  of  Maximilian  should  be 
known  to  his  lansquenets,  since  any  delay  might  endanger 
the  loss  to  the  French  of  at  least  one  third  of  the  army.  There 
was  another  impelling  influence  at  work  to  render  battle 


276  bayard's  opinions. 

inevitable.  Louis  was  threatened  by  invasion  in  two  or 
three  quarters  of  his  own  dominions,  and  needed  the  succor 
of  his  troops  from  Italy.  Bayard  was  the  counsellor  who  was 
employed  to  reconcile  the  dissenting  voices,  and  to  disann 
the  doubts  and  fears  among  the  captains.  In  answer  to  a 
question  directly  proposed  to  him  by  the  duke  (for  it  may 
be  observed  of  our  "  Good  Knight"  that  he  was  seldom  in  a 
hurry  to  thrust  his  opinions  upon  his  associates),  he  replied 
to  the  following  effect : 

"  My  lord,  having  but  yesterday  arrived,  I  know  nothing 
of  the  condition  of  our  enemies.  These  gentlemen,  who 
have  met  and  skirmished  with  them  daily,  and  who  know 
much  more  than  I  can,  are  divided  in  opinion.  Some  are 
for  giving,  and  some  for  avoiding  battle.  Since  you  arc 
pleased  to  think  that  my  opinions  may  be  of  some  use  in 
the  discussion,  with  all  regard  and  reverence  for  your  lord- 
ship, and  those  who  have  already  expressed  themselves,  I 
will  freely  show  you  what  I  think.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
all  engagements  have  their  hazards.  It  behooves  us, 
therefore,  to  consider  well  before  we  involve  ourselves  in 
action.  But,  as  the  case  appears  to  stand  at  present, 
between  ourselves  and  the  enemy,  it  seems  to  me  the 
battle  is  not  to  be  avoided.  "We  shall  hardly  be  suffered 
to  depart  without  doing  battle.  Here  you  have  already 
made  your  approaches.  To-morrow  it  is  proposed  that 
you  cannonade  Ravenna,  and,  a  breach  being  made,  to 
enter  it  by  storm.  Now,  surely,  we  are  all  aware  that  the 
activity  of  Marc  Antonio  Colonna  hath  at  least  been  equal 
to  our  own.  He  hath  succeeded  in  throwing  himself  into 
the  place  with  a  powerful  body  of  fine  troops,  and  hath 
done  so  with  a  solemn  assurance  from  Don  Raymond  de 
Cardona,  viceroy  of  Naples,  and  head  of  the  hostile  army — 
of  his  own  uncle,  the  Lord  Fabrizio  Colonna,  together  with 
that  of  Count  Pietro  de  Navarro,  and  of  all  the  captains — 
that,  if  he  can  hold  out  till  to-morrow,  or,  at  farthest,  till 
Easter-day,  they  will  succor  and  relieve  him.     Now,  it  is 


277 

very  certain  that  these  gentlemen  mean  to  make  their 
promises  good.  They  are  akeady  close  upon  us,  and  in 
all  their  force.  Now,  suppose  we  seek  to  avoid  this  battle, 
what  shall  we  gain  by  the  delay  1  Let  us  see.  Our  con- 
dition just  now  is  bad  enough.  Our  troops  are  almost 
without  food.  Our  horses  are  obliged  to  subsist  on  the 
shoots  of  willows.  The  longer  we  stay,  the  less  will  be 
our  sustenance — the  more  calamitous  our  situation.  This 
should  be  consideration  enough  to  move  us  to  the  action. 
But  when,  in  addition,  we  know  the  peril  in  which  the 
king  our  master  stands  at  this  moment — what  his  wishes 
are,  and  what  his  necessities — how  he  urges  us  to  give 
battle,  and  how  he  shows  us  that  it  is  not  merely  the 
safety  of  the  duchy  of  Milan,  but  that  of  the  whole  realm 
of  France  which  is  now  menaced  by  the  enemy — it  seems 
to  me  that  we  can  not  doubt  of  the  necessity  for  action 
which  is  before  us.  We  must  fight,  and  fight  discreetly, 
as  well  as  fearlessly.  We  have  to  deal  with  a  crafty 
people,  who  are  good  soldiers  also.  That  we  shall  incur 
great  danger  is  very  true.  But  there  is  one  thing  which 
gives  me  heart  in  spite  of  all  discouraging  circumstances. 
It  is  this.  These  Spaniards  have  now  been  living  for 
a  whole  year  in  Romagna  on  the  fat  of  the  land — living,  I 
may  say,  in  clover — and  have  gi'own  luxurious,  and  fond 
of  ease.  They  are  pursy  and  proud,  and  greatly  encum- 
bered with  fat.  We,  on  the  contrary,  have  been  forced 
to  live  on  what  we  could  catch — on  scanty  fare,  which  is 
still  our  only  resource.  By  reason  of  this  sort  of  diet — 
this  forced  abstinence — we  shall  be  in  better  wind  for  the 
conflict — we  shall  be  longer-breathed — and  this  is  what  we 
most  want  in  such  a  struggle  as  the  one  before  us ;  for  it  is 
very  certain  that  it  is  that  party  who  can  longest  hold  on 
in  battle  by  whom  the  day  is  to  be  won." 

Bayard  usually  dressed  up  his  counsel  with  pleasantry, 
in  moments  when  the  prospect  seemed  gloomy  before  his 
companions.    They  laughed  heartily  at  his  philosophy,  and 

A  K 


278  THE    ASSAULT    UPON    RAVENNA. 

in  their  merriment  the  danger  was  somewhat  lessened  in 
the  eyes  of  those  who,  before,  had  been  disposed  to  shrink 
from  the  encounter.  His  reasoning  was  undoubtedly  cor- 
rect. Had  the  French,  half-starved  as  they  were,  avoided 
the  conflict,  and  shewn  any  disposition  to  acknowledge  the 
superiority  of  their  enemies,  the  morale  of  their  army 
would  have  been  endangered.  A  retreat  never  helps  the 
courage  of  troops,  who  are  already  suffering  from  starva- 
tion. The  lords  of  Lautrec,  de  la  Palisse,  the  Grand 
Seneschal  of  Normandy,  and,  indeed,  the  great  majority, 
concurred  with  Bayard  in  the  necessity  of  giving  battle, 
and  such  was  the  final  decision.  The  next  day,  the  pow- 
erful artillery  of  the  Duke  of  Fen'ara,  always  irresistible, 
opened  upon  the  walls  of  Ravenna.  A  breach  was  soon 
effected,  which  the  impatience  of  the  French,  anxious  to 
achieve  the  conquest  of  the  city  before  the  allies  could  re- 
lieve it,  hastened  to  penetrate.  A  force,  consisting  of  two 
hundred  gens  d'arms,  and  three  thousand  foot,  were  ordered 
to  the  assault,  and  advanced  gallantly  toward  the  breach, 
with  the  gay  demeanor  of  a  bridal  party.  They  mounted 
the  crumbling  battlements,  when  a  terrible  hand-to-hand 
conflict  took  place  upon  the  ramparts.  For  four  mortal 
hours  the  attack  was  persevered  in,  at  an  awful  expense  of 
life.  If  the  assailants  played  their  parts  with  an  elastic 
and  enthusiastic  courage,  that  never  dreamed  of  peril,  the 
defenders  as  gallantly  maintained  their  defence,  with  a 
hardihood  as  resolute  as  that  with  which  they  were  assailed. 
Marc  Antonio  Colonna  had  placed  his  best  men  upon  the 
threshold,  and  this  was  quite  too  small  to  enable  the 
French  to  assail  them  with  adequate  numbers.  Cheered 
with  the  conviction  of  their  strength,  of  the  advantages  un- 
der which  they  fought,  and  of  the  rapid  approach  of  the 
allies,  the  courage  of  the  garrison  grew  with  the  pressure 
from  without.  The  French,  after  five  or  six  glorious  efforts, 
were  compelled  to  relinquish  the  assault,  and  to  retire 
fi'om  the  breach,  in  which  more  than  fifteen  hundred  men, 


BAFFLED.  279 

of  both  parties,  had  akeady  perished.  When  the  facts  in 
their  condition  were  all  known,  they  drew  consolation  from 
their  own  defeat.  The  sound  of  their  cannon  had  reached 
the  camp  of  the  allied  forces.  The  danger  to  Ravenna 
compelled  them  to  abandon  the  temporizing  policy  which 
had  governed  their  leaders  so  long,  and  forced  them  to 
risk  a  pitched  battle,  in  which  their  stakes  were  quite  as 
great  as  those  of  the  enemy,  from  whom  their  recent  policy 
had  cut  off  both  provisions  and  retreat.  Had  the  French 
obtained  possession  of  Ravenna,  by  assault,  the  sack  would 
have  left  them  in  no  condition  to  meet  the  enemy  without; 
and  when  Gaston  de  Foix  drew  off  his  soldiers  from  the 
walls,  the  former  had  advanced  their  camp  to  within  three 
miles  of  that  of  France.  But  for  this  near  approach  of  the 
foe,  the  assault  upon  Ravenna  would  have  been  renewed,  and 
must  in  the  end  have  been  successful.  It  was  impossible 
now  to  persevere,  while  an  army,  fully  equal  in  number  to 
his  own,  lay  ready  to  seize  the  first  opportunity  for  a  favor- 
able attack.  His  situation  was  critical.  The  battle  was 
now  inevitable,  as  Bayard  had  foreseen ;  and  the  only  hope 
of  the  Duke  de  Nemours  was  in  assailing  the  enemy  in  his 
ti'enches,  and  forcing  him  to  a  general  engagement. 

The  night  of  the  day  when  the  attempt  was  made  upon 
the  city,  many  of  the  chiefs  of  the  French  army  were 
assembled  at  the  lodgings  of  their  general.  After  supper, 
discoursing  of  the  events  of  the  action,  the  duke  turning  to 
Bayard  remarked, — "  My  Lord  Bayard,  before  you  reach- 
ed the  camp,  the  Spaniards  were  continually  inquiring 
after  you  of  our  people.  They  seem,  from  what  I  can 
hear,  to  have  a  very  high  notion  of  your  prowess.  Now, 
if  it  seem  good  to  you,  who  have  long  known  their  ways  of 
fighting,  I  would  advise  that  you  go  forth  and  skirmish 
vrith  them  to-morrow.  Compel  them,  if  possible,  to  join 
battle  with  you,  that  we  may  see  what  sort  of  show  they 
make." 

The  object  was  reconnaissance.     It  was  important  to 


280  TflE    BARON    OF    BEARN. 

feel  the  foe,  to  sound  his  spirit,  ascertain  his  strength,  and 
see  properly  how  it  was  arrayed,  in  advance  of  the  main 
attempt  which  had  ah'eady  been  resolved  upon.  Bayard, 
who  was  ambitious  of  nothing  better  at  that  moment 
than  such  an  enteipiise,  answered,  with  spirit  and  prompt- 
ness, 

"  With  God's  blessing,  my  lord,  I  shall  take  so  close 
a  look  at  them,  ere  mid-day  to-morrow,  that  I  shall  bring 
back  all  about  them  which  you  may  desire  to  know." 

There  happened  to  be  present  when  this  suggestion  was 
made  and  answered,  a  certain  Baron  of  Beam,  one  of  the 
duke's  lieutenants,  a  bold  knight,  who  loved  a  skirmish 
quite  as  well  as  any  of  his  neighbors.  He  was  probably 
somewhat  piqued  at  the  application  made  to  Bayard  only ; 
and,  in  evil  hour,  he  resolved  within  himself  that  the 
*'  Good  Knight"  must  be  in  stirrup  very  early,  if  he  hoped 
to  take  the  field  before  himself  Secretly  assembling  a 
party  of  his  friends  and  followers,  he  made  his  aiTange- 
ments  for  setting  forth  before  break  of  day ;  and  did  set 
forth,  seeking  the  enemy's  entrenchments,  long  in  advance 
of  our  hero;  who,  suspecting  nothing  of  this  adventure,  took 
his  own  course,  and,  as  soon  as  he  had  left  the  duke,  called 
his  chief  followers  together.  These  were  his  lieutenant. 
Captain  Pien'epont,  his  ensign,  his  guidon,  and  some  others 
of  his  company.  To  these  he  unfolded  his  plans  as  fol- 
lows : — "  I  have  promised,  gentlemen,  that  we  shall  recon- 
noitre the  enemy  to-morrow,  and  get  certain  information 
in  regard  to  them.  The  affair  is  one  to  be  conducted  in 
such  a  manner  as  will  bring  us  credit.  My  purpose  is  to 
take  the  whole  command,  and  to  display  the  banners 
of  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  which  the  enemy  have  never 
seen.  They  may  bring  us  good  luck,  and  will  be  more 
cheering  than  the  sound  of  comets.  To  you,  Du  Fay" — 
addressing  the  standard-bearer — "  I  assign  fifty  archers. 
With  these  you  will  pass  the  canal  below  the  artillery  of 
the  Spaniards,  and,  as  far  as  you  can,  stir  up  an  alarm  in 


HE    STIRS    UP    THE    SPANIARDS.  281 

their  camp.  When  you  see  that  it  is  prudent  to  retire, 
you  will  run  no  risk  in  doing  so,  supported,  as  you  will 
be,  by  Captain  Pierrepont,  who,  with  thirty-six  horse  and 
the  rest  of  the  archers,  will  be  at  your  rear.  He  will  sup- 
port you,  with  the  rest  of  the  company.  I  will  be  at  hand 
to  see  that  you  are  not  too  hard  pressed.  Manage  the 
affair  with  caution,  and  I  pledge  you  that  we  shall  all  gain 
credit  by  the  result." 

Having  no  field-plans,  we  must  suppose  that  the  scheme 
was  one  implying  some  nice  stratagem.  His  officers  per- 
fectly understood  him,  and  each  knew  the  part  which  was 
assigned  him.  We  must  not  forget  to  remind  the  reader, 
as  the  old  chronicler  frequently  reminds  us,  that  there  was 
not  one  of  Bayard's  gendarms  who  was  not  fit  himself  to 
be  a  captain.  Their  plans  did  not  keep  any  of  them  from 
sleep  that  night.  Retiring,  as  soon  as  their  arrangements 
were  made,  they  were  all  ready  by  the  dawn  of  day,  when 
they  armed  and  accoutred  themselves.  The  colors  of  the 
Duke  of  LoiTaine  were  unfurled,  for  the  first  time,  to  the 
breezes  of  Ravenna — "  a  goodly  spectacle,  which  greatly 
cheered  the  hearts  of  the  company."  They  began  their 
march,  as  previously  determined,  in  three  separate  bands, 
each,  at  a  distance  from  the  other,  of  three  moderate  bow- 
shots. Never  a  bit  did  any  of  our  good  knight's  party 
dream  that  the  adventurous  young  Baron  of  Beam  had  got 
the  start  of  them,  snuffing  the  breezes  of  battle  and  the 
morning  together,  in  advance  of  themselves.  They  were 
soon,  however,  to  partake  in  the  game  which  this  young 
gentleman  had  so  gallantly  begun.  He  had  gone  forth 
right  valiantly,  and  succeeded  in  stirring  up  a  delightful 
alarm  in  the  camp  of  the  Spaniards.  Foot  and  horse  were 
arranged  for  battle,  and  the  artillerists,  a  little  more  rapid 
than  any  other  arm  of  the  service,  had  despatched  certain 
bullets  of  rock  into  the  ranks  of  the  baron's  party,  which 
took  off  an  arm  of  the  Chevalier  Basillac,  a  favorite  of  the 
Duke  de  Nemours,  as  cleverly  as  a  surgeon  could  have 


282      bayard's  share  in  the  game. 

done.  These  shots  were  seconded  by  a  rush  of  the  Span- 
ish and  Neapolitan  gendarms,  before  which  our  Baron  de 
Beam  thought  it  only  prudent  to  retire.  But  his  walk 
soon  became  a  trot,  and  then  a  gallop ;  and  even  the  head- 
long race,  under  the  spur  of  sauve  qui  pent,  would  scarcely 
have  sufficed  for  the  safety  of  the  party,  but  for  the  timely 
coming  of  the  Bastard  Du  Fay,  who  interposed  his  squadron 
between  the  fugitives  and  the  pursuers.  Bayard,  apprised 
of  the  luckless  adventure  of  the  baron,  and  of  the  approach 
of  the  Spaniards,  soon  brought  his  force  up  to  co-operation 
with  that  of  Du  Fay,  but  without  exposing  himself  to  the 
cognizance  of  the  enemy.  It  was  with  no  qualified  pleas- 
ure that  he  beheld  them  urging  the  headlong  chase,  until 
they  had  fairly  crossed  the  canal  which  separated  them 
wholly  from  the  support  of  the  camp.  Then  it  was  that, 
putting  lance  in  rest,  and  plying  the  steed  with  the  rowel, 
he  cried  aloud  to  his  followers  to  charge  the  assailants. 
The  fugitives  fell  into  his  rear,  while  he,  never  looking  to 
see  whether  he  was  or  was  not  supported — taking  that  for 
granted,  as  well  he  might  in  consideration  of  the  love  borne 
him  by  his  followers — darted  fiercely  at  once  into  the  very 
centre  of  the  enemy's  squadron,  consisting  of  an  hundred 
horse  and  more,  overthrowing  five  or  six  of  them  at  the 
first  encounter.  The  Spaniards  fought  well  but  vainly, 
and  at  length  fairly  wheeled  about  and  fled  for  the  camp, 
which  was  now  every  where  in  commotion  and  alarm,  the 
whole  army  being  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle.  Never 
heeding  their  gallant  array,  except  to  note  its  aspect  ac- 
curately for  the  benefit  of  his  general.  Bayard  continued 
to  drive  the  party  which  he  had  defeated,  before  him,  until 
they  had  fairly  crossed  the  canal  and  entered  the  camp. 
Here,  as  if  in  the  very  wantonness  of  his  defiance,  he  and 
his  company  exhibited  prodigies  of  valor,  overthrowing  all 
who  encountered  tliem,  and  tumbling  not  a  few  of  the  tents 
and  pavilions  of  the  luxurious  Spaniards  into  the  dust.  It 
was  only  when  the  vigilant  eyes  of  our  good  knight  beheld 


HIS    SUCCESS.  283 

a  troop  of  three  hundred  gendarms,  close  ranged  for  fight, 
and  hurrying  toward  him  at  a  quick  trot,  that  he  gave  orders 
for  the  retreat.  They  repassed  the  canal  without  the  loss 
of  a  man.  The  Spaniards  did  not  pursue  them,  though  five 
or  six  of  them,  in  a  spirit  of  chivalry,  proposed  to  break  a 
lance  with  an  equal  number  of  Frenchmen.  But,  thinking 
it  would  bring  on  another  skirmish,  in  which  his  men,  heat- 
ed and  exhausted,  would  be  required  to  cope  with  fresh 
soldiers.  Bayard  would  not  suffer  one  of  his  people  to  com- 
ply with  the  wishes  of  the  challengers.  The  Duke  of 
Nemours  already  knew  what  had  taken  place.  Greatly 
grieved  for  Basillac's  misfortune,  he  embraced  Bayard  as 
he  returned  to  the  camp,  saying  to  him,  "  You,  and  such 
as  you  only,  my  Lord  of  Bayard,  are  fit  to  head  the  skir- 
mishers. You  can  both  go  and  return  with  discretion." 
Those  who  beheld  the  prowess  of  our  knight,  in  this  rude 
encounter  with  the  Spaniards  at  once  acknowledged  they 
had  never  seen  one  who  understood  war  so  well,  or  met 
its  dangers  with  such  feats  of  arms.  But  this  spirited  af- 
fair was  one  to  sink  into  insignificance  in  regard  to  that 
which  was  at  hand.  It  was  a  taste,  only  preparatory  to  one, 
which  French  and  Spaniards  had  equal  reason  to  deplore 
for  several  seasons  after 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

It  was  not  to  inquire  whether  a  battle  was  to  be  fought, 
but  liow  it  was  to  be  fought,  that,  after  this  reconnaissance 
of  Bayard,  Gaston  de  Foix  called  his  officers  again  to 
council.  The  skirmish  of  the  good  knight  with  the  Span- 
iards had  not  only  enabled  him  to  see  somewhat  into  their 
arrangements,  but  had  revealed  the  spirit  with  which  they 
would  be  likely  to  meet  the  final  issue.  The  very  fat 
feeding  to  which  Bayard  had  alluded,  and  which  he  sup- 
posed might  render  his  enemies  scant  of  breath  in  the 
action,  would  yet,  of  itself,  furnish  sufficient  impulse  to 
make  them  eager  for  the  excitements  of  the  strife.  To 
infuse  his  own  people  with  the  proper  spirit,  and  to  plan 
the  mode  of  attack, — for  the  French  general  was  resolved 
upon  taking  the  initiate  steps  in  the  business, — was  the 
subject  matter  of  the  conference  in  which  we  find  our 
good  knight  once  more  counselling  the  mode  of  procedure, 
with  the  satisfaction  of  finding  his  opinions  adopted  by  the 
rest.  His  discoveries  of  the  morning,  in  the  camp  of  the 
Spaniards,  and  his  views  of  what  should  be  done  by  the 
assailants,  in  great  measure  determined  the  order  for  the 
attack,  which  was  arranged  for  the  ensuing  day,  being 
Easter  Sunday.  That  night  a  bridge  of  boats  was  thrown 
across  the  river  Ronco  for  the  passage  of  the  infantry 
and  artillery,  the  esplanades  on  either  bank  being 
such  as  to  enable  the  horse  to  ford  the  stream  with- 
out assistance.  The  keeping  of  this  bridge  was  assigned 
to  the  Bastard  Du  Fay,  the  standard-bearer  of  our 
knight.  The  council  separated  for  the  night,  each  having 
his  post  assigned  him,  and  all  properly  impressed  with  the 


THE    RIVAL    AEMIE;?.  285 

duties  and  the  dangers  which  awaited  them  on  the  ensuing 
day. 

This  memorable  day,  in  which  the  flower  of  both  armies 
was  destined  to  perish,  dawned  at  last,  the  eleventh  of 
April,  1512.  Conspicuous  among  the  leaders,  on  each 
side,  were  men  distinguished  as  the  legates  of  the  most 
high  God.  Clad  in  complete  armor,  towering  in  his  pride 
of  place,  full  of  a  wrathful  and  imperious  spirit,  and  of 
martial  and  imposing  aspect,  the  Cardinal  Sanseverino, 
legate  of  the  council  of  Milan,  marched  among  the  captains 
of  the  French.  On  the  other  side,  the  Cardinal  de  Medici, 
as  legate  of  the  Church,  held  the  chief  authority  in  the 
allied  army.  His  aspect  was  more  peaceful,  whatever 
his  spirit  might  have  been.  He  still,  though  at  the  head 
of  a  warlike  ari'ay,  appeared  in  the  habiliments  of  peace  ; 
to  which,  indeed,  his  temper  naturally  inclined  much  more 
than  that  of  his  brother  cardinal.  The  Spanish  troops,  on 
whom  the  allies  placed  their  chief  reliance,  were  led  by 
the  Viceroy  Cardona,  the  Italians  by  Fabrizio  Colonna; 
and  the  command  of  the  light-armed  cavalry  was  entrusted 
to  the  young  and  accomplished  Ferdinando  Davalos,  mar- 
quis of  Pescara.  On  the  French  side,  the  lansquenets  and 
foot-soldiers,  to  the  number  of  six  thousand,  were  led  by 
the  several  captains  Molart,  Bonnet,  Maugiron,  the  Baron 
de  Grammont,  and  others ;  and  this  force,  with  two  thou- 
sand Gascons  under  the  immediate  command  of  Captain 
Odet,  and  the  Cadet  Duras,  were  instructed  to  take  post 
within  cannon-shot  of  the  enemy's  camp,  which  they  were 
to  watch,  availing  themselves  of  every  movement  to  ply 
them  with  the  artillery,  by  which  they  were  to  be  accojn- 
panied.  The  vanguard  was  commanded  by  the  Duke  of 
Ferrara  and  Jacques  de  Chabannes,  lord  de  la  Palisse, 
with  their  companions.  With  these  came  the  gentlemen 
under  the  Grand  Seneschal  of  Normandy,  the  Master 
of  the  Horse,  the  Lord  of  Humbercourt,  La  Crete,  the 
Lord   Theodore    de  Trivulzio,   and    other  captains,   with 


286  THE    PREDICTION. 

some  eight  hundred  gendarms.  With  the  command  of  the 
Duke  de  Nemours,  himself,  were  associated  his  cousin, 
the  Lord  of  Lautrec,  D'Alegre,  Captain  Louis  d'Ars,  and 
Bayard,  with  a  force  of  four  or  five  hundred  horse.  The 
Itahan  infantry,  to  the  number  of  four  thousand,  were  left 
in  charge  of  the  camp  before  Ravenna,  for  the  double  pur- 
pose of  insuring  the  safety  of  the  baggage,  and  of  prevent- 
ing any  sallies  from  the  forces  within  the  city. 

With  the  opening  of  the  day  the  French  army  was  in 
motion.  The  Duke  de  Nemours  left  his  tent  among  the 
first,  armed  at  all  points,  but  without  his  helmet,  which, 
before  the  necessity  for  its  use,  was  probably  carried  by  a 
page.  He  wore  a  most  gorgeous  dress,  exceeding  heavy, 
and  richly  embroidered  with  the  arms  of  Navaire  and 
France.  Looking  out  upon  the  horizon,  he  remarked 
that  the  sun,  which  was  just  risen,  wore  a  red  and  fiery 
appearance.  One  of  his  gentlemen,  named  Haubordouin, 
of  whom  he  was  very  fond,  remarking  this  appearance  also, 
said  to  him,  "  Know  you  what  this  bodes,  my  lord  1 — the 
death  of  some  great  prince  or  captain  to-day.  It  must  be 
either  you  or  the  viceroy  (Cardona)."  Gaston  de  Foix 
gayly  laughed  at  the  prediction,  and  rode  away  to  the 
bridge  of  boats,  over  which  his  army  was  then  crossing;  but 
his  men  remembered  at  this  moment  the  predictions  and 
warning  which  were  given  to  Chabannes  and  Bayard  by 
the  astrologer  of  Carpi,  and  his  intimations  that  the  day  of 
greatest  danger  to  the  duke  would  be  this  very  Easter 
Sunday.  After  this  comment  of  Haubordouin,  which  a 
modem  captain  would  think  exceedingly  mistimed  at  the 
moment  when  an  engagement  was  drawing  on,  another 
instance  of  the  7idivete  of  chivalry  took  place,  which  our 
chronicler  has  deemed  it  worthy  to  preserve.  While  the 
Duke  de  Nemours  was  inspecting  the  passage  of  his  troops. 
Bayard  approached  him,  and  said,  "  My  lord,  while  the 
forces  are  crossing  the  river,  let  us  divert  ourselves  by  a 
stroll  along  its  banks."     Gaston  agi*eed  to  this ;   and  he. 


CHIVALRIO    COURTErflE.  287 

Bayard,  Lautrec,  Alegi-e,  and  some  others,  to  the  number 
of  twenty  horse,  pursued  a  course  along  the  edge  of  the 
river,  on  the  opposite  side  of  which  they  could  distinctly 
perceive  the  confusion  and  preparation  in  the  camp  of  the 
allies.  While  they  walked,  the  duke  remarked,  "  My  Lord 
of  Bayard,  we  present  an  admirable  mark  for  any  arque- 
busiers  that  might  be  concealed  on  the  other  side.  They 
might  shoot  us  where  we  are  with  the  greatest  ease." 
Just  then  a  troop  of  twenty  or  thirty  Spanish  knights 
appeared  on  horseback,  among  whom  was  Don  Pedro  Paz, 
a  distinguished  cavalier  among  them,  of  whom  something 
has  been  said  in  our  pages  already,  and  who  was  the 
leader  of  all  their  horse.  Bayard,  seeing  them,  advanced 
some  twenty  or  thirty  paces  before  his  companions,  and 
addressed  the  Spaniards  in  the  following  fashion  across  the 
stream :  "  You  are  amusing  yourselves  for  the  present, 
gentlemen,  and  so  are  we.  I  pray  you,  therefore,  that, 
until  our  sports  fairly  begin,  you  discharge  no  guns  ii'om 
your  side,  and  we  will  trouble  you  with  none  of  ours." 
Don  Pedro,  as  king  the  name  of  the  person  by  whom  he  was 
addressed,  and  being  told  that  it  was  Captain  Bayard,  was 
marvellously  delighted,  and  answered  him  thus :  "  On  my 
honor,  my  Lord  of  Bayard,  though  T  know  that  we  gain 
nothing  by  your  presence  here,  but,  on  the  contraiy,  hold 
your  force  to  be  the  stronger  thereby,  by  some  two  thou- 
sand men,  nevertheless  I  am  right  glad  to  see  you.  Would 
to  God  there  were  peace  between  your  king  and  mine, 
that  we  might  know  more  of  each  other,  for  I  have  loved 
you  for  your  prowess  all  my  life."  Bayard,  who  was 
never  surpassed  in  courtesy  by  any  man,  answered  the 
Spaniard  in  a  strain  of  similar  compliment,  which  he 
might  well  do,  as  Don  Pedro,  though  something  of  a 
dwarf,  had  a  most  noble  and  gigantic  spirit  in  a  rude  and 
contracted  bosom.  The  latter,  seeing  the  distinction  with 
which  all  parties  joined  to  treat  the  Duke  de  Nemours, 
asked,   "  Who   is   that   nobleman,    my   Lord   of  Bayard, 


288  THE    LORD    OF    MOLART. 

to  whom  your  people  pay  so  much  honor  1"  "  He  is  our 
commander-in-chief,"  repHed  the  knight,  "  the  Duke  de 
Nemours,  nephew  to  our  prince,  and  brother  to  your 
queen."  Scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  Don  Pedro  and  all 
his  knights  dismounted,  and,  addressing  De  Foix,  said, 
"  Lord  Duke,  saving  what  is  due  to  the  honor  and  the 
sei*vice  of  the  king  our  master,  we  declare  to  you  that  we 
are,  and  always  will  remain,  your  servants."  We  still 
retain  some  of  the  stately  and  artificial  courtesies,  which 
originated  in  those  periods,  in  which  the  struggle  between 
ferocity  and  civilization  engendered  many  peculiarities 
of  conduct  between  fiiends  and  foes,  which  we  can  only 
comprehend,  now,  by  a  due  regard  to  the  conventional 
strife  of  castes  and  classes  which  belongs  to  every  transition 
period  in  society.  The  Duke  de  Nemours  acknowledged, 
in  similar  terms,  the  complimentary  address  of  the  Span- 
iards ;  and  the  parties,  thus  really  full  of  respect  and 
admiration  for  each  other,  separated  to  engage  in  the 
deadliest  struggles  of  a  mortal  combat.  This  little  episode 
will  serve  to  illustrate  some  of  the  characteristics  of  that 
school  of  civilization  which  chivalry  founded,  and  which, 
at  the  period  of  which  we  write,  was  dying  out  rapidly, 
chiefly  in  consequence  of  the  progress  of  commerce  and 
the  use  of  gunpowder. 

The  German  lansquenets  in  the  French  army  were  the 
first  to  occupy  the  bridge  in  passing.  The  adventurers,  a 
motley  crowd,  under  the  command  of  the  Lord  of  Molart, 
impatient  of  being  in  the  advance,  readily  yielded  to  his 
suggestion  when  he  ciied  to  them,  "  What !  comrades,  shall 
the  lansquenets  lead  us  to  the  enemy  1  I  would  rather  lose 
an  eye  than  we  should  submit  to  this  reproach.  Follow 
me  !"  and,  armed  as  he  was,  he  dashed  on  foot  into  the  riv- 
er wading  gallantly  through  in  advance  of  the  Germans. 
The  passage  of  the  whole  army  was  safely  made,  the  allies 
offering  no  obstruction  ;  and,  relying  on  the  obvious  design 
of  the  French  to  force  their  camp,  which  they  had  laid  out 


THE    CANNONADE.  289 

judiciously,  and  had  strengthened,  as  far  as  possible,  with 
all  the  appliances  of  art.  Their  forbearance  c»me  from  the 
counsel  of  Pietro  de  Navarro,  who  had  great  reputation  as 
an  engineer,  and  who  earnestly  recommended  that  the  array 
should  remain  in  its  entrenchments  and  should  trust  for 
success  in  the  first  instance  to  the  artillery,  which  had  been 
advantageously  posted  in  front  of  their  ranks.  Fabrizio 
Colonna  alone  opposed  this  advice.  He  counselled  more 
wisely,  as  the  sequel  would  seem  to  show,  that  the  assail- 
ants should  be  met  while  crossing  the  river,  and  attacked 
as  they  approached  in  detached  bodies.  But  the  advice  of 
the  Spaniard  prevailed.  The  French  were  permitted  to 
pass  the  river,  and  to  approach  unmolested  within  a  short 
distance  of  the  allied  camp,  where  they  formed  their  line, 
and  having  spread  out  their  artillery  in  front,  opened  upon 
the  entrenchments  of  the  allies  with  a  tremendous  cannon- 
ade. This  was  answered  fiercely  by  the  batteries  of  Pietro 
Navari'o,  which  brought  tenible  havoc  u])on  the  exposed 
infantry  of  the  French,  having  played  freely  upon  them 
during  their  advance.  More  than  two  thousand  of  these 
devoted  people  fell  early  in  the  action.  The  valiant  cap- 
tain, the  Lord  of  Molart,  whom  we  have  seen  so  eager 
to  get  ahead  of  the  Germans,  fell  by  the  same  cannon-shot 
which  slew  Philip  de  Friburg,  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  lans- 
quenets. The  Spanish  infantry,  meanwhile,  lying  flat  be- 
hind their  entrenchments,  escaped,  in  some  degree,  that 
fearful  havoc  which  their  artillery  had  produced  among  the 
French.  Their  pieces  were  twenty  in  number,  cannon  and 
long  culverins,  and  they  had  about  two  hundred  arquebusses- 
a-croc,  which  seem  to  have  been  heavy  hand-guns  worked 
upon  a  rest  or  pivot.  The  intervals  between  their  guns 
they  had  occupied  with  a  sort  of  armed  cart  or  wagon,  on 
two  wheels,  to  be  worked  by  the  hand,  which  were  barbed 
on  all  sides  with  spears  of  three  prongs.  These  carts  were 
to  be  rolled  forward  upon  the  foot-soldiers  whenever  they 
advanced  to  the  assault.     At  their  wing  was  the  vanguard, 

Bb 


290  FABllIZIO    COLONNA. 

consisting  of  eight  hundred  gendarms,  commanded  by  Fa- 
brizio  Colon»a.  The  viceroy,  Cardona,  stationed  above 
this  force,  had  with  him  four  hundred  horse  and  about  tv^^o 
thousand  Itahan  foot.  The  horse  w^as  spoken  of  as  being 
of  the  first  order,  as  well  in  their  experience  and  courage 
as  in  their  equipment.  Thus  formidably  entrenched  and 
supported,  with  all  the  advantages  of  fighting  from  an  en- 
trenched camp,  upon  an  advancing  and  unprotected  foe, 
the  day  appeared  to  be  going  against  the  assailants ;  when 
its  aspect  was  changed  by  the  artillery  of  the  Duke  of  Fer- 
rara,  who,  having  obtained  an  advantageous  position,  by 
which  the  entrenchments  were  commanded,  now  tore  his 
way  with  his  iron  messengers  through  the  flanks  of  the 
allied  army.  For  two  dreadful  hours  had  this  cannonade 
continued,  when  the  mingled  slaughter  of  men  and  horses, 
who  fell  without  a  struggle,  without  an  opportunity  of  re- 
sistance, stung  Fabrizio  Colonna  with  fury.  His  men,  mad- 
dened by  the  murderous  discharges,  were  no  longer  restrain- 
able.  "  Cuerpo  de  Dios  /"  was  their  cry  ;  "  Somos  matados 
del  cielo'* — "  we  are  slain  as  from  the  sky ;"  "  Vamos  com- 
hater  los  homhres" — "  let  us  go  forth  and  fight  with  men  !" 
The  passionate  resolution  which  they  expressed  was  that 
of  Colonna.  Bitterly  denouncing  the  policy  which  had  gov- 
erned the  Spanish  generals,  he  rushed  from  the  entrench- 
ments, and  was  followed  with  more  or  less  rapidity  by  all 
the  allies.  As  the  van  of  his  gendarms  appeared  in  sight, 
the  keen  eyes  of  Bayard  and  D'Alegre  immediately  beheld 
the  danger  to  which  they  lay  open,  and  bringing  up  a  cou- 
ple of  pieces  of  artillery,  to  a  point  by  which  their  approach 
was  commanded,  swept  the  track  with  bullets,  mowing  down, 
in  successive  discharges,  more  than  three  hundred  of  the 
advancing  troop.  Thirty-three  men  were  swept  away  by  a 
single  cannon-shot.  This  brought  on  a  general  action.  The 
force  led  by  Fabrizio  Colonna,  avoiding  the  vanguard  of 
the  French,  which  was  commanded  by  the  Duke  of  Ferrara 
and  Chabannes,  lord  de  la  Palisse,  made  for  a  little  squad- 


STRIFE    OF    HORSEMEN.  291 

ron  of  French  horse  which  surrounded  the  Duke  of  Ne- 
mours in  person.  This  prince  commanded  in  the  centre. 
Seeing  the  approach  of  the  Spanish  horse,  though  nearly 
twice  the  number  of  his  own,  he  lowered  his  visor  and  ad- 
vanced to  meet  them.  As  the  Italian  captain  approached,  he 
divided  his  force  into  two  bodies,  in  order  the  more  com- 
pletely to  enclose  the  smaller  body  of  the  French.  Bayard 
perceiving  this,  counselled  the  duke  to  make  a  like  division 
of  his  force,  by  which  both  parties  of  the  Spaniards  should  be 
encountered  at  the  same  moment.  This  advice  was  promptly 
followed,  and  the  Spaniards  rushed  on  with  a  shout,  crying 
to  each  other  as  they  approached,  "  Espana !  Espaiia ! 
Santiago  !  a  los  cahallos  !  a  los  cahallos  P' — "  Spain  and  St. 
James !  upon  the  horses !  upon  the  horses !"  In  other 
words,  according  to  a  Spanish  proverb,  "  Muerto  de  cdbal- 
lo,  'perdido  Vhomhre  d'artnas'' — Slay  the  horses — "  When 
the  horse  is  dead,  the  horseman  is  sped."  We  have  not 
forgot  the  effect  of  this  policy  in  the  famous  duel,  already 
recorded  in  these  pages,  of  thirteen  against  thirteen.  The 
shock  was  terrible  between  these  parties.  The  Spanish 
cavalry  under  Fabrizio  Colonna,  nearly  half  as  many  again 
as  that  under  the  prince,  continued  the  fight  for  more  than 
half  an  hour,  and  still  the  result  was  doubtful.  Seeing  this, 
D'Alegi'e,  who  spied  at  distance  the  band  of  Robert  de  la 
Marck,  whose  uniform  was  black  and  white,  cried  to  them 
with  a  loud  voice,  "  Black  and  white,  march  !  march  !  and 
bring  up  the  archers  !"  These,  well  knowing  that  the  matter 
was  pressing,  or  such  a  summons  would  never  be  made,  at 
once  hurried  to  the  rescue,  and  at  once  decided  the  event 
in  this  part  of  the  field.  The  archers,  with  the  small  hatch- 
ets which  they  can-ied  at  their  saddle-bows,  dealt  very  rude- 
ly with  the  Spanish  cavalry,  and  the  Lord  Fabrizio  Colon- 
na was  compelled  to  retreat,  retiring  in  gi'eat  disorder  and 
after  heavy  loss,  more  than  four  hundred  of  his  gendarms 
being  left  between  the  fosse  of  his  entrenchments  and  the 
river. 


292  GASTON    DE    FOIX. 

Meanwhile,  the  action  had  every  where  become  general. 
The  shock  of  battle  in  every  part  of  the  field  had  proved 
equally  bloody  with  that  to  which  we  have  chiefly  confined 
our  attention.     The  hostile  encounter  of  two  such  armies, 
enflamed  bynational  enmity  and  mutual  resentments — stung 
by  a  protracted  endurance  of  loss  from  the  opposing  artil- 
lery, which  could  not  be  met — and  exasperated  to  the  high- 
est degree  by  the  preceding  events  of  a  fierce  and  capiicious 
warfare,  was  necessarily  of  a  kind  the  most  temble  and 
destructive.     Never,  says  the  chronicler,  was  seen  a  more 
desperate  conflict ;  but  the  Spaniards  at  length  yielded,  and 
fled  for  their  entrenchments.     The  French  were  about  to 
pursue,  but  they  were   arrested  by   Bayard,   who   stayed 
them.     He  approached  the  Duke  de  Nemours  to  exhort 
him  to  forbearance  at  this  moment,  in  regard  to  the  Spanish 
infantry,    who   still  lay  concealed  behind  their  entrench- 
ments.     Seeing   the   duke    covered    with    the   blood    and 
brains  of  a  knight  who  had  been  slain  at  his  side  by  a  can- 
non-shot, he  feared  that  he  had  been  wounded.     "  No  ;  but 
1  have  wounded  many  others  !"  cried  the  exulting  prince, — 
the  rapture  of  the  strife  still  glowing  in  every  eager  feature 
of  his  face.     "Now,  God  be  praised!"  cried  Bayard,  "for 
the  battle  is  yours — your  fame  is  sure — you  have  covered 
yourself  this  day  with  glory.     But  you  must  proceed  no 
farther,  my  lord.     Assemble  your  cavalry  in  this  place,  that 
they  may  not  begin  to  plunder  the  camp  before  we  are  yet 
sure  of  it.      Captain  Louis  d'Ars   and  myself  will  pursue 
the  fugitives,  so  that  they  shall  not  retire  behind  the  foot- 
soldiers.     Meanwhile,  my  lord,  do  you  stir  not  hence  for 
any  man  living,  till  the  said  captain  or  myself  come  to  fetch 
you  !"      We   may  justly   suppose    that   Bayard  was  not 
wholly  uninfluenced  by  the  counsel  which  had  been  given 
him,  in  regard  to  the  safety  of  the  duke,  by  the  astrologer 
at  Carpi.     Gaston  de  Foix  was  neither  too  proud  nor  too 
vain  to  hearken  to  the  advice  of  a  soldier  so  experienced. 
He  promised  compliance  with  the  counsels  of  our  knight ; 


HIS    VICTORY    AND    DEATH.  293 

but  it  would  appear  that  he  was  not  in  this  manner  to 
elude  his  fate.  He  suffered  himself  to  forget  his  resolution, 
and  he  paid  for  his  error  with  his  life. 

The  Spanish  infantry,  under  Pietro  Navarro,  still  kept 
their  ground  behind  the  entrenchments.  They  were  above 
four  thousand  in  number,  and  the  policy  of  Bayard  was  so 
wholly  to  isolate  them  from  their  cavalry,  as  to  make  it  easy 
to  take  them  at  disadvantage  hereafter.  This  would  have 
been  almost  a  matter  of  certainty.  The  pursuit  of  the  fugi- 
tives placed  all  the  chief  men  of  the  allies  in  their  power. 
Among  the  prisoners  were  the  Cardinal  Legate  de  Medici, 
Fabrizio  Colonna,  the  Marquis  of  Pescara,  and  many 
others  ;  and,  subsequently,  Pietro  de  Navarro  was  himself 
added  to  the  list.  The  farther  particulars  of  the  fight,  by 
which  this  plan  was  discarded,  and  the  glory  of  the  victory 
rendered  gloomy,  by  the  disastrous  losses  of  the  French, 
are  differently  told  by  the  historians.  It  would  seem  that 
an  unwise  attempt  upon  the  Spanish  foot,  who  were  retiring 
in  good  order,  together  with  the  premature  excesses  of 
some  of  the  French  adventurers,  who  grew  busy  with  the 
wine-casks  of  the  Spaniards,  before  the  latter  had  fairly 
left  them,  led  to  some  small  reverses,  which  were  greatly 
exagrorerated  in  the  ears  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours.  At  all 
events,  he  was  prompted  to  desert  the  spot  where  Bayard 
had  left  him  in  safety,  and,  with  but  a  thousand  horse,  to 
throw  himself  across  the  path  of  a  body  of  the  Spaniards, 
consisting  of  three  thousand  infantry.  At  first,  his  fierce 
assault  was  successful,  and  he  made  terrible  havoc  among 
his  enemies  ;  but  the  shot  of  an  arquebuse  at  length  brought 
him  to  the  ground,  where  he  was  immediately  surrounded 
by  foes,  who  fell  upon  him  with  their  pikes,  and  slew  him 
with  innumerable  wounds.  Thus  perished,  by  an  untimely 
fate,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-four,  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  French  heroes.  His  fate  damped  the  ardor 
of  his  countrymen,  and  more  than  compensated  the  allies 
for  the  terrible  defeat   which  thev   had   sustained.      The 


294  ITS    HEAVY    LOSSES. 

French  confess  to  a  loss  of  three  or  four  thousand  men, 
chiefly  infantry.  The  ItaHan  historians  make  their  losses 
more  than  ten  thousand.  Of  the  allies,  upwards  of  nine 
thousand  lay  upon  the  field.  All  their  standards,  equipage, 
artillery,  and  numerous  prisoners,  distinguished  and  obscure, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  their  enemies.  The  Viceroy  Car- 
dona  effected  his  escape  to  Cesena.  Among  those  who 
perished  on  the  side  of  the  French  were  many  whose 
nam«s  have  been  made  familiar  to  us  in  the  progi'ess  of 
this  history.  After  the  death  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours, 
they  lamented  in  particular  the  fate  of  Ino  d'Allegri,  and 
his  son  Viverot ;  Zemberg  and  Friburg,  the  leaders  of  the 
German  lansquenets ;  the  Baron  de  Grammont,  Maugiron, 
Bardasson,  Monsacre,  Captain  Molart,  La  Crope-Daillon, 
Auber,  and  many  others.  Lautrec  received  twenty  wounds 
in  defending  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  was  left  for  dead 
upon  the  field,  but  finally  recovered.  The  victory  was  a 
great  one,  but  dearly  paid  for. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


It  was  late  in  the  day  before  Bayard  returned  from  the 
pursuit  of  the  fugitives,  and  bitterly  did  he  deplore  the 
fate  of  his  friend  and  commander  which  his  prudence  had 
labored  to  avert.  His  biogi"apher,  the  "  Loyal  Servant," 
describes  him,  on  his  return  to  the  camp  and  before  he 
had  learned  the  death  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  as  meet- 
ing with  a  portion  of  the  retreating  infantry  of  the  allies, 
in  the  midst  of  whom  the  duke  had  fallen.  Bayard,  at 
this  moment,  had  with  him  but  thirty  or  forty  gendaniis,  all 
of  whom  were  marvellously  spent  and  weary.  Still  he  pre- 
pared to  charge  the  enemy,  who  was  retiring  in  good 
order;  when  one  of  the  captains,  advancing  at  the  head  of 
his  men,  cried  to  him,  "  Sir,  what  is  it  that  you  would  do  ] 
You  can  not,  surely,  suppose  yourself  strong  enough  to 
conquer  us.  Be  satisfied  with  what  is  already  done.  You 
have  won  the  battle.     You  have  killed  or  scattered  our 


296  p.ayard's  letter 

main  army.  Be  content  with  the  honor  you  have  gained, 
and  since,  by  God's  mercy,  we  have  escaped  so  far,  suffer 
us  to  go  with  our  Hves."  Bayard  felt  the  good  sense  of 
what  the  Spaniard  had  advanced,  and,  with  scarcely  a  horse 
fit  to  stand  upon  his  legs,  he  was  satisfied  to  receive  the 
colors  of  the  enemy,  and  to  suffer  them  to  depart  in  peace. 
Alas !  exclaims  the  chronicler,  had  he  but  known  that  the 
Duke  de  Nemours  was  slain,  and  by  these  very  men,  he 
would  have  died  ten  thousand  deaths  sooner  than  have 
left  him  unavenged.  A  letter  of  Bayard  to  his  uncle, 
Laurent  Alleman,  describing  this  battle  of  Ravenna,  has 
been  preserved.*  Its  details  may  serve  to  supply  some  of 
the  omissions  in  our  narrative.     He  writes  : — 

"  My  lord,  I  commend  myself,  with  all  possible  humility, 
to  your  good  favor. 

"  My  lord,  since  I  last  wrote  you,  we  have  had  a  battle 
with  the  enemy,  as,  by  this  time,  the  tidings  may  have 
reached  you.  The  events,  fully  to  acquaint  you  of  them, 
happened  after  this  manner : 

"  Our  army  drew  nigh  and  lodged  hard  by  the  city  of 
Ravenna.  Hither  our  enemies  repaired,  almost  as  soon  as 
ourselves,  to  put  the  inhabitants  in  heart.  Now,  by  reason 
of  some  rumors,  which  increased  daily  in  the  camp,  touch- 
ing a  descent  of  the  Swiss,  and  in  consequence  of  the  great 
lack  of  provisions  which  we  experienced,  my  Lord  of  Ne- 
mours resolved  to  give  them  battle.  Last  Sunday,  accord- 
ingly, we  passed  a  little  river  which  separated  us  from  our 
enemies  and  engaged  them.  They  marched  out  in  very 
good  order,  and  consisted  of  seventeen  hundred  horse,  the 
most  glorious  and  splendid  that  ever  were  seen,  and  full 
fourteen  thousand  foot,  as  gallant  soldiers  as  could  be  met 
with.  About  a  thousand  of  their  cavaliers,t  enraged  at 
being  so  galled  as  they  were  by  our  artillery,  rushed  upon 
our  middle  squadron,  where  the  Duke  de  Nemours  was  in 

*  By  the  President  Expilly. 

t  The  cavalry  under  Fabrizio  Colonna. 


DESCRIBING    THE    BATTLE.  297 

person,  together  with  his  company,  that  of  the  Duke  of 
Lorraine,  of  Louis  d'Ars,  and  others,*  to  the  number  of 
four  hundred  horse,  or  thereabouts, f  who  received  the  foe 
with  so  stout  a  heart  that  better  fighting  never  was  beheld. 
Between  our  vanguard — which  consisted  of  a  thousand 
gendarms — and  ourselves,  there  were  great  ditches,  and, 
even  were  these  no  impediments,  they  had  enough  to  do 
elsewhere,  and  could  render  us  no  assistance ;  where- 
fore, the  said  middle  squadron  was  forced  to  bear  the 
brunt  of  a  thousand  men.  At  this  juncture  my  Lord  of 
Nemours  broke  his  lance  betwixt  the  two  battalions,  pierc- 
ing one  of  the  enemy's  gendarms  through  the  body,  the 
weapon  appearing  half  an  arai's  length  on  the  opposite 
side.  Thus  were  the  said  thousand  men  defeated  and  put 
to  flight,  and,  as  we  were  pressing  upon  them  in  pursuit, 
we  fell  in  with  their  infantry  close  by  their  ordnance,  with 
five  or  six  hundred  gendarms,  who  were  posted  there,  hav- 
ing in  front  of  them  two  wheeled  carts,  whereon  was  a 
great  piece  of  iron,  with  two  planks  ten  or  fifteen  feet  long. 
These  troops  soon  came  to  close  fighting  with  our  infantry. 
Their  foot  above  mentioned  had  so  many  arquebusiers 
that  they  killed,  in  a  manner,  nearly  all  our  captains  of  foot 
almost  as  soon  as  they  approached,  instead  of  staggering 
them  or  putting  them  to  flight.  But  our  foot  were  so  well 
supported  by  the  cavalry  that,  after  an  obstinate  contest, 
our  adversaries  were  discomfited,  lost  their  artillery,  seven 
or  eight  hundred  of  their  hoi'se,  who  were  slain,  and  most 
of  their  captains,  with  seven  or  eight  thousand  foot-soldiers. 
It  is  not  known  that  any  of  their  leaders  escaped  except 
the  viceroy.  We  have  prisoners  of  them — the  Lord  Fabri- 
zio  Colonna,  the  Cardinal  de  Medicis,  the  Pope's  legate, 
the  Lord  Pedro  Navarro,  the  Marquis  of  Pescara,  Don 
Juan  de  Cardona,  and  others,  whose  names  I  know  not. 

*  He  is  silent  in  regard  to  himself. 

t  A  portion  of  this  body  of  gendarms  were  detached  to  hold  the  bridge 
under  the  Bastard  Du  Fay :  hence  its  smallness. 

N* 


298  LETTER    CONTINUED. 

The  fugitives  who  escaped  were  pursued  for  eight  or  ten 
miles,  and  are  scattered  among  the  mountains,  where,  it 
is  said,  the  peasantry  have  cut  them  in  pieces. 

"  My  lord,  if  the  king  hath  won  this  battle,  I  swear  to 
you  that  the  poor  gentlemen  have  lost  it ;  for,  while  we 
were  engaged  in  the  pursuit,  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  falling 
in  with  some  foot-soldiers  who  had  rallied,  chose  to  attack 
them ;  but  the  gentle  prince  was  so  ill  supported  that  he 
fell  in  the  fray,  whereat  the  soitow  and  mourning  that  hath 
been  and  is  still  displayed  in  our  camp,  is  such  as  hath 
never  been  equalled.  You  would  think,  indeed,  could  you 
behold  our  grief,  that  the  battle  had  been  lost  instead 
of  won.  No  prince's  death,  for  an  hundred  years,  hath 
been  so  great  a  calamity  as  this.*  Had  he  but  lived,  he 
would  have  done  such  things  as  prince  never  achieved 
before.  All  here  declare  themselves  as  if  they  had  lost  a 
father.  As  for  me,  my  lord,  I  suffer  more  than  I  am  able 
to  express,  and  shall  henceforth  lead  a  melancholy  life. 

"  My  lord,  in  other  plsftes  fell  M.  d'Alegre  and  his  son,  M. 
de  Molart,six  German  captains,  among  them  Zemberg,  their 
colonel;  Captain  Maugiron,  the  Baron  de  Grandmont,  and 
above  two  hundred  gentlemen,  all  of  name  and  reputation, 
not  to  mention  two  thousand  of  our  foot-soldiers.  The 
kingdom  of  France  will  not  for  a  century  repair  the  losses 
which  we  have  sustained  in  this  action. 

**  My  lord,  the  body  of  the  late  duke  was  yesterday 
morning  carried  to  Milan,t  under  an  escort  of  two  hundred 

*  The  memory  of  Gaston  de  Foix  was  held  in  great  esteem,  and  his  death 
lamented  even  by  the  Italians  themselves.  He  has  been  accused  of  acts  of 
barbarity  in  his  conquests  ;  but  these  are  rather  chargeable  to  the  times  than 
the  individual,  and  many  w^ere  committed  by  those  under  his  command 
whom  he  had  not  the  power  to  restrain. 

t  The  body  of  the  Duke  de  Nemours  was  conveyed  in  great  state  to 
Milan,  attended  not  only  by  the  gens  d'arms.as  above  stated,  and  the  flags  of 
conquest,  but  by  the  prisoners  taken  in  the  battle.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
city  came  forth  in  deep  mourning  to  receive  it ;  and  amid  the  blaze  of  a 
thousand  torches  it  was  deposited  in  the  consecrated  vaults  of  the  cathedral. 
But  there  it  was  not  suffered  to  remain.     When,  subsequently,  the  French 


MASSACRE    AT    RAVENNA.  299 

gens  d'arms,  in  the  most  honorable  manner  that  could  be 
devised.  Eighteen  or  twenty  banners  gloriously  gained  in 
this  battle  were  borne  before  the  corse.  Now  that  he  is 
laid  low,  I  believe  that  we  shall  cease  from  warfare.  The 
Swiss,  however,  are  still  making  some  clamor;  but  when 
they  hear  of  this  defeat,  they  will,  methinks,  abate  some- 
what of  their  ardor.  As  soon  as  matters  are  fairly  adjust- 
ed here,  I  shall  come  and  see  you.  Praying  God  to  give 
your  lordship  a  very  long  and  happy  life, 

"  I  am  your  humble  sers'ant, 

"  Bayard. 
"Written  at  the  Camp  of  Ravenna,  this  14th  day  of  Ap7-il.^' 

The  battle  of  Ravenna  gained,  the  victorious  army 
returned  to  the  siege  of  the  city.  Marc  Antonio  Colonna, 
despairing  of  the  defence  of  the  place,  withdrew  his  forces 
into  the  citadel,  where  he  defended  himself  for  a  few  days, 
at  the  expiration  of  which  time  he  was  suffered  to  quit  the 
city,  under  a  pledge  not  to  bear  arms  against  France  for  the 
period  of  three  months.  The  city  was  left  to  make  its  own 
terms,  and,  while  a  deputation  of  the  inhabitants  were 
arranging  with  the  commander  of  the  French  the  terms 
of  its  surrender,  a  party  of  Gascons  and  lansquenets  forced 
their  way  through  the  breaches,  and  a  tenible  slaughter 
ensued  of  the  inhabitants.  The  chief  command  of  the 
French  had  devolved  on  Chabannes,  the  sieur  de  la  Palisse. 
It  was  some  time  before  he  was  advised  of  the  enormities 
of  his  mercenaries.  In  the  mean  time,  the  massacre  had 
become  indiscriminate,  without  regarding  age  or  sex. 
Even  the  monasteries  on  this  occasion  afforded  no  security 
to  the  unhappy  wretches  who  had  hitherto  found  shelter  in 

were  expelled  from  Milan,  the  Cardinal  of  Sion  ordered  it  to  be  disinterred, 
as  the  remains  of  an  excommunicated  person,  and  sent  for  private  burial  to 
the  church  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Martha.  On  the  recovery  of  Milan  by 
the  French,  in  1515,  a  magnificent  tomb  was  raised  to  his  memory,  the  mon- 
ument, surmounted  by  a  statue  of  De  Foix,  as  large  as  life,  in  marble,  sur- 
rounded by  ten  other  marble  figures,  being  designed  and  exquisitely  sculp- 
tured by  Agostino  Busti,  a  Milanese. 


300  JACaUIN    CAUMONT. 

their  sacred  privacies.  As  soon  as  Chabarmes  was  ap- 
prised of  what  was  in  progress,  he  laudably  addressed  all 
his  energies  to  the  aiTest  and  punishment  of  the  offenders. 
He  hastened  through  the  city  with  a  select  body  of  his 
troops,  and  from  the  windows  of  one  convent,  alone,  he  hung 
no  less  than  thirty-four  of  the  wretches  who  had  penetrated 
its  walls  with  violence.  In  this  decisive  act  of  justice 
he  realized  another  prediction  of  the  astrologer  of  Carpi. 
One  of  the  victims  on  this  occasion,  and  the  chief  among 
the  offenders,  was  that  Jacquin  Caumont,  captain  of  foot  in 
the  bands  of  the  Lord  Molart,  whom  we  remember  to  have 
seen  commending  himself  to  the  Duke  de  Nemours  as 
a  gendarm,  when  he  fell  into  the  canal  at  Finale,  saved 
only  from  drowning  by  that  destiny  which  he  initated  the 
astrologer  of  Cai^i  to  declare  aloud.  In  this  manner  he 
finished  his  career,  verifying  the  prediction  in  full,  even  to 
the  time  limited  for  the  consummation  of  his  fate. 

The  effect  of  this  great  victory  was  immediate.  The 
cities  of  Imola,  Forli,  Cesena,  Rimini,  and  several  other 
places,  dreading  a  like  fate  with  Ravenna,  sent  deputies  to 
testify  their  obedience  to  the  King  of  France,  and  almost 
the  whole  extent  of  Romagna  was  once  more  occupied  by 
his  arms.  But  the  allies  were  undiscouraged.  The  first 
panic  over,  they  were  soon  taught  to  understand  that  the 
victory  at  Ravenna  was  quite  as  unfortunate  for  the  French 
as  for  themselves.  They  had  lost  many  of  their  ablest  cap- 
tains, many  of  their  best  men,  and  were  encumbered  with 
their  sick  and  wounded,  and  were  dreadfully  demoralized 
by  the  sacking  of  Ravenna.  Continued  apprehensions  in 
their  camp,  with  regard  to  threatened  descents  of  the 
Swiss,  necessarily  discouraged  their  enterprise,  and  kept 
them  rather  watchful  for  their  own  safety  than  eager  to 
engage  against  their  enemies.  The  war  began  to  languish, 
and  the  affairs  of  France  to  decline  in  Italy,  at  the 
moment  in  which  her  armies  had  obtained  their  most  brill- 
iant successes.     King  Louis,  entertaining  serious  appre- 


DECLINE    OF    THE    FRENCH    POWER.  301 

hensions  from  the  invasions  of  Henry  VIII.  of  England, 
was  now  anxious  for  reconciliation  with  the  Pope.  A 
treaty  was  made  between  them;  but  the  Holy  Father  was 
too  subtle  for  the  temporal  prince,  and,  advised  of  the  de- 
bilitated condition  of  the  French  army,  he  contrived,  on 
some  slight  pretext,  to  evade  its  obligations.  Meanwhile, 
the  army  of  Spain  was  supplied  with  new  reinforcements. 
A  large  body  of  Swiss  was  subsidized  by  the  Pope,  and 
numerous  volunteers,  from  the  same  nation,  swelled  their 
forces  to  thrice  the  number  for  which  he  had  contracted. 
It  happened,  unfortunately  for  Louis,  that  he  had  been 
heard  to  speak  slightingly  of  the  faith  and  courage  of  these 
mountaineers,  whom  fi'equent  successes  and  constant  em- 
ployment, as  the  soldiery  of  other  nations,  had  enflamed 
with  insolence  and  vanity.  To  these  were  joined  the 
troops  of  Venice  and  of  Rome,  composing  an  army  of 
more  than  thirty  thousand  men.  The  lansquenets,  still  in 
the  army  of  France,  were  glad  of  the  orders  of  their 
emperor,  which  enabled  them,  without  discredit,  to  desert 
a  falling  cause ;  and,  menaced  with  danger  on  all  sides.  La 
Palisse  first  attempted  to  fortify  himself  in  Valezzio,  but, 
finding  the  place  too  weak  for  defence,  and  unable  to  con- 
tend with  such  superior  numbers,  he  distributed  a  great 
part  of  his  ti'oops  in  the  strong  garrisons  of  Crema,  Brescia, 
and  Bergamo ;  and,  with  the  remainder,  consisting  only  of 
seven  hundred  lancers,  two  thousand  French  infantry,  and 
four  thousand  Germans,  retired  to  Ponterico.  This  was 
a  town  of  considerable  strength  ;  but  it  was  here  that 
the  lansquenets — all  but  about  seven  hundred — forming 
the  largest  portion  of  his  force,  was  withdrawn  from  him 
by  the  imperial  orders.  This  was  the  ruin  of  his  army. 
From  Ponterico,  he  retreated  upon  Pavia.  Here  he 
determined  to  make  a  stand.  At  this  place,  one  of  his 
most  valuable  prisoners,  the  Cardinal  de  Medicis,  afterwards 
Leo  X.,  escaped  from  his  custody.  The  French  had 
scarcely  begun  to  fortify  Pavia  when  the  allies  made  their 

Cc 


302  FLIGHT    FROM    PAVIA. 

appearance,  and  entered  it  two  days  after  its  occupation  by 
tlie  former.  La  Palisse,  by  the  advice  of  Bayard,  the 
better  to  guard  against  contingencies,  had  caused  a  bridge 
of  boats  to  be  constructed  over  the  Tesino,  anticipating  the 
necessity  of  a  flight  by  some  other  mode  than  that  afforded 
by  the  stone  bridge  which  the  city  possessed  already.  It 
was  well  he  took  this  precaution.  Before  the  French  were 
altogether  conscious  of  the  neighborhood  of  danger,  the 
Swiss  penetrated  to  the  market-place  of  Pavia.  To  this  point 
the  French  captains  made  their  way  with  all  the  men  they 
could  bring  together;  and  a  fierce  conflict  ensued,  in  which 
Captain  d'Ars,  who  had  been  made  governor  of  the  town, 
La  Palisse  himself,  and  the  Lord  of  Humbercourt,  fought 
gallantly,  as  became  their  former  deeds  and  the  high  rank 
which  they  enjoyed  for  courage  and  command.  But  none 
of  them  equalled  the  almost  incredible  things  which  were 
performed  by  Bayard  on  this  occasion.  With  not  more 
than  thirty  of  his  gendarms  he  stopped  the  Swiss,  and  kept 
them  in  a  prolonged  conflict  for  two  hours,  while  the 
French  artillery  was  in  progress  across  the  bridge.  Two 
horses  were  killed  under  him  during  this  unequal  struggle, 
from  which  he  only  withdrew  when  warned  by  his  lieuten- 
ant, Captain  Pierrepont,  that  the  Swiss  were  passing  the 
liver  also,  and  that  he  must  escape  at  once  if  he  would  not 
be  surrounded  by  his  foes.  The  order  was  accordingly 
given  to  retreat,  which  the  gendarms  did,  still  fighting  at 
every  step.  They  were  closely  pressed  until  the  bridge 
was  reached,  when  the  cavalry  succeeded,  after  a  boisterous 
conflict,  in  passing  over.  The  bridge  was  kept  by  a  force 
of  three  hundred  lansquenets.  Unfortunately  for  these  ad- 
venturers, a  heavy  piece  of  artillery,  called  the  Lady  of 
Forli,  the  last  to  be  transported,  sunk  the  first  bark  to 
which  it  was  transferred.  This  broke  one  of  the  connect- 
ing links  which  held  the  bridge  together,  and  cut  off  the 
only  means  of  retreat  for  the  unhappy  lansquenets,  who 
were  compelled  to  escape  as  they  might.     Some  of  them 


BAYARD    WOUNDED.  303 

iid  so ;  others  were  slain  by  their  enemies ;  and  not  a  few 
perished  in  ihe  waters  of  the  Tesino. 

Bayard  was  one  of  the  last  to  suffer  in  this  very  nar- 
row escape.  He  had  nearly  fallen  a  victim  to  his  hardi- 
hood. Always  the  last  in  the  retreat,  as  the  first  in  the 
advance,  he  had  taken  his  post  at  one  extremity  of  the 
bridge  which  his  comrades  had  already  passed,  when  a 
falcon-shot  from  the  town  grazed  him  between  the  shoul- 
der and  the  neck,  tearing  away  the  flesh  and  laying  bare 
the  bone.  Those  who  witnessed  the  blow,  concluded  that 
he  was  finally  sped ;  but  he,  never  dismayed,  though 
conscious  that  he  was  desperately  wounded,  encouraged 
his  companions,  who  were  looking  on  aghast,  and  doing 
nothing  for  his  relief. — "  Gentlemen,  this  is  nothing." 
They  proceeded  to  stanch  the  blood  as  well  as  possible, 
with  moss  gathered  from  the  trees  and  with  fragments  torn 
from  the  shiits  of  his  comrades.  And  this  rude  surgery 
was  the  work  of  simple  soldiers.  The  French,  in  the 
exigency  of  the  retreat,  were  unprovided  with  a  surgeon. 
In  this  condition,  the  good  knight  was  borae  to  Alessandria, 
where  they  were  not  long  permitted  to  remain.  Still 
pressed  by  their  eager  enemies,  the  debris  of  the  French 
army  abandoned  Lombardy  altogether,  those  places  ex- 
cepted which  have  already  been  mentioned,  and  in  which 
strong  gamsons  were  maintained.  In  all  other  places  the 
people  rose  against  them  with  the  same  brutal  levity  with 
which  they  had  risen  against  their  native  masters.  Their 
capriciousness  was  only  to  be  gratified  with  blood.  In  the 
city  of  Milan,  the  French  inhabitants,  chiefly  merchants, 
were  indiscriminately  butchered,  to  the  number  of  fifteen 
hundred.  In  other  towns,  similar  massacres  followed  the 
departure  of  the  troops,  by  whom  the  native  ferocity  had 
been  kept  in  subjection.  The  peasantry  watched  for  the 
straggling  soldiery,  on  the  retreat  to  the  Alps,  and  wo  to 
the  feeble  and  infirm  who  fell  in  the  rear,  or  the  thoughtless 
who  wandered  away  from  the  support  of  their  companions 


304  BAYARd'b    LAMENTATION'. 

The  French  succeeded  in  their  escape  across  the  mount- 
ains, and  all  that  remained  to  them,  after  this  disastrous 
war,  in  which  so  many  precious  lives  were  lost,  and  so 
much  treasure  was  wasted,  was  the  glory  of  Gaston  de 
Foix  and  the  famous  deeds  of  Bayard.  These  make 
their  monuments,  and  fill  their  chronicles,  and  furnish 
them  with  models  and  with  morals,  which  have  en- 
dured, perhaps  equally  for  good  and  for  evil,  for  successive 
centuries. 

Suffering  from  his  wounds  and  from  the  protracted  fa- 
tigues of  a  long  and  perilous  campaign,  in  which  the  ser- 
vice was  hard  and  urgent,  and  the  comforts  few  or  none, 
Bayard  proceeded  to  Grenoble,  where  he  was  received 
most  affectionately  by  his  venerable  uncle,  the  bishop  of 
the  place,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  many  years.  He  was 
lodged  within  the  episcopal  palace,  where  he  fell  grievously 
ill  in  consequence  of  his  hurts  and  previous  ailments.  For 
seventeen  days  his  life  was  despaired  of,  and  he  himself 
became  reconciled  to  a  fate  which  was  thought  inevitable, 
only  lamenting  that  he  had  not  perished  in  the  saddle.  His 
wailings  in  regard  to  this  disappointment  have  been  pre- 
served by  his  attendants.  "Alas !"  said  he,  "  oh,  my  God, 
wherefore,  since  it  is  thy.  pleasure  that  I  should  leave  the 
world  so  soon,  didst  thou  not  vouchsafe  that  I  should  die 
in  the  company  of  that  gentle  prince,  the  Duke  de  Ne- 
mours, and  with  the  rest  of  my  companions  on  the  field  of 
Ravenna.  Why  didst  thou  not  suffer  that  I  should  end  my 
days  at  the  assault  of  Brescia,  where  I  was  so  perilously 
hurt  1  Ah !  how  much  happier  to  fall,  as  my  ancestors 
have  ever  done  before,  upon  the  field  of  battle.  Have  I, 
oh  merciful  God,  who  have  passed  through  so  many  and 
such  great  dangers  from  the  shot  of  artillery,  the  thrust  of 
pike,  the  stroke  of  sword  and  battle-axe  ;  in  assaults,  in  en- 
counters, in  all  varieties  of  conflict, — ^liave  I  escaped,  by  thy 
grace  and  mercy,  from  all  these  dangers,  only  to  expire 
like  a  girl  upon  her  couch.     Nathless,  though  I  would  it 


HE  RECOVERS.  305 

were  otherwise,  thy  will  be  done.  Great  sinner  as  I  am, 
I  build  my  hope  on  thy  infinite  mercy.  Alas !  my  Fa- 
ther, I  have  in  all  times  past  giievously  offended  against 
thy  holy  laws.  It  had  been  my  hope,  as  it  was  my  resolu- 
tion, hadst  thou  spared  me  a  little  longer,  with  the  aid  of  thy 
grace,  to  have  amended  my  evil  life.  But,  to  thy  mercy  I 
yield  myself.  Do  with  me  as  thou  wilt,  and  let  the  close 
of  my  mortal  life  be  the  expiation  of  its  sins." 

The  prayers  of  Bayard  were  seconded  by  those  of  his 
uncle  and  his  fiiends.  Nobles,  and  priests,  and  citizens, 
nuns  and  monks,  joined  in  the  general  supplication  in 
behalf  of  a  knight  so  beloved  and  so  renowned.  "  Among 
so  many,"  piously  remarks  the  "  Loyal  Servant,"  *'  it  was 
not  possible  that  there  should  not  be  some  one  just  person, 
whom  the  Lord  would  be  pleased  to  hear  ;  and  this  was 
plainly  manifested  in  the  gradual  diminution  of  his  fever, 
and  the  improvement  of  his  condition."  His  fever  left  him, 
his  nights  were  crowned  with  the  blessing  of  sound,  unbrok- 
en sleep — he  regained  his  appetite  and  spirits;  and,  under 
good  treatment,  and  cheered  with  the  affectionate  solicitude 
of  friends,  our  hero  was  soon  perfectly  restored  to  health, 
and  with  a  heart  as  buoyant  and  happy  as  ever.  The 
ladies,  in  particular,  strove  with  one  another  to  minister  to 
the  delight  of  one  who  had  always  been  so  devoted  to  the 
sex.  They  extolled  his  virtues,  and  sought  his  company, 
made  fetes  in  his  honor,  and  abashed  him  by  the  warmth 
of  their  praises.  Whether  this  was  the  fi'uit  of  a  simple 
admiration  of  his  prowess,  or  whether,  in  those  days,  as  it  is 
supposed  to  be  the  case  in  ours,  there  were  some  who 
entertained  a  lurking  desire  selfishly  to  appropriate  the 
excellences  which  hitherto  had  been  common  to  the 
enjoyment  of  the  whole  world  of  beauty,  it  would  not  be 
proper  to  insinuate ;  certain  it  is,  that  no  knight  has  ever 
been  better  favored  by  the  sex,  more  eaniestly  entreated, 
more  benevolently  smiled  upon,  or  more  tenderly  solicited, 
in  all  the  usual  walks  of  society. 

c  c** 


306  BAYARD    NO    SAINT. 

Returning  health,  luxurious  ease,  and  a  respite  from  the 
anxieties  and  cares  of  war,  were  influences  by  no  tneans 
favorable  to  those  virtues,  in  our  good  knight,  which  had  so 
endeared  him  to  the  admiration  of  the  sex.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  he  yielded  to  those  temptations,  for  a 
season,  which,  in  most  other  men,  are  found  seasonable  al- 
ways. Bayard,  with  all  his  virtues,  was,  alas  !  no  saint. 
His  recent  dangers  were  forgotten  in  the  renewed  activity 
and  flow  of  youthful  blood.  He  no  longer  remembered 
his  penitential  prayers  and  pious  promises  to  the  Deity  ; 
and,  during  one  of  his  walks  through  the  environs  of  Gren- 
oble, struck  with  the  beauty  of  a  young  woman  whom  he 
beheld  at  a  window,  he  longed  for  the  enjoyment  of  her 
charms.  This  criminal  desire,  which  he  made  no  efforts  to 
gratify,  preyed  upon  his  thoughts.  He  was  perceived  to 
be  melancholy  and  abstracted,  and  a  little  painstaking  on 
the  part  of  one  of  his  attendants,  named  Cordon,  enabled 
him  to  discover  the  secret  of  his  master.  Bayard's  walks 
were  always  in  the  one  direction.  His  eyes  still  sought  out 
the  beautiful  features  of  the  young  girl  who  had  inspired 
his  passions ;  and  the  solicitous  inquiries  of  Cordon  ex- 
torted from  our  good  knight  the  expression  of  a  desire, 
upon  which  the  ready  valet  was  only  too  well  pleased  to 
act.  There  are  always  at  hand  some  convenient  creatures, 
when  a  vice  would  find  its  way  into  commission ;  particu- 
larly where  the  vsrrong-doer  is  a  person  of  any  consequence. 
Cordon  reminds  us  of  what  King  John  remarks,  when 
Hubert  tells  him  that  he  has  slain  Prince  Arthur : 

It  is  the  curse  of  kings  to  be  attended 

By  slaves,  who  take  their  humor  for  a  warrant, 

And,  on  the  winking  of  authority, 

To  understand  a  law. 

Cordon  was  one  of  these  persons.  Bayard  did  but  wink, 
and  the  submissive  lacquey  was  ready  for  the  vice.  We 
do  not  propose,  in  this,  to  shield  our  good  knight,  hitherto 
$ans  tdclie,  from   any  of  the  shame  which  belongs   to  the 


THE    DAMSEL.  307 

event.  If  his  creature  was  ready  for  the  task,  his  master's 
weakness  furnished  him  sufficient  prompting ;  and  if  there 
were  no  apology  for  him,  his  employer  was  equally  without 
excuse.  But  we  shall  see  how  nobly  the  latter  converts  a  fault 
into  a  virtue,  and  redeems  his  nature  from  reproach.  Our 
hero  had  been  absent  at  a  convivial  party  in  the  town,  and 
returaed  to  his  lodgings  late  at  night.  Entering  his  cham- 
ber, he  encountered  the  beauty  upon  whom  his  thoughts 
for  several  days  had  been  set.  She  was  a  beautiful  virgin, 
scarcely  sixteen  years  of  age,  the  only  daughter  of  a 
wretched  woman,  a  widow,  who,  in  her  poverty,  was  pre- 
pared to  sell  her  child.  The  eyes  of  the  girl  were  red 
with  weeping.  The  big  tears  were  yet  hanging  on  her 
cheeks.  Her  whole  aspect  was  full  of  grief  and  terror,  and 
her  breast  swelled  and  heaved  with  emotions  which  were 
too  evidently  those  of  sorrow  and  bitterness,  to  leave  any 
one  deceived  as  to  the  purity  of  her  soul.  Bayard  looked 
at  her  with  equal  pleasure  and  astonishment.  Her  tears 
could  not  conceal  her  beauties.  Her  grief  did  but  heighten 
her  charms.  These  he  could  not  help  but  feel ;  but  he  felt 
her  sorrows  also.  "  My  child,"  said  he,  tenderly,  "  was 
it  only  to  grieve  that  you  came  hither]"  Encouraged  by 
his  kind  looks,  his  gentle  accents,  and  the  delicacy  of  his 
manner,  the  poor  girl  flung  herself  at  his  feet  and,  with  a 
bursting  heart,  declared  her  own  horror  at  the  condition  to 
which  she  had  been  brought — announced  the  destitution 
of  her  mother  as  the  necessity  for  her  proposed  cruel 
sacrifice ;  and,  in  a  passion  of  tears,  implored  his  mercy 
and  forbearance.  She  spoke  with  loathing  of  the  fate  to 
which  her  mother  had  devoted  her,  and,  not  only  persuaded 
the  good  knight  that  her  heart  was  pure,  and  her  virtue 
without  blemish  or  spot,  but  that  she  entertained  within  her 
bosom  a  tender  affection  for  another.  Bayard,  charmed  as 
m.uch  with  the  simplicity  as  nobleness  of  her  sentiments, 
raised  her  from  the  floor,  saying,  "  God  forbid,  my  child, 
that  I  should  wickedly  seek  to  banish  such  honorable  feel- 


308  BAYARD'a    MAGNANIMITY. 

ings  from  your  heart ;  come  with  me,  you  shall  sleep  to- 
night where  you  will  not  suffer  shame." 

Thus  saying,  he  wrapped  her  carefully  in  his  cloak,  and 
commanding  his  guilty  valet  to  bring  torches,  he  conveyed 
the  damsel  to  the  house  of  a  gentlewoman  of  Grenoble,  a 
near  relation  of  his  own,  who  dwelt  not  far  from  his  own 
lodgings.      There  he  placed  her  for  the  night.*     The  next 

*  Mr.  Bulwerhas  made  this  anecdote  in  the  life  of  Bayard  the  subject  of 
a  ballad,  which,  as  the  story  is  one  of  exceeding  difficult  handling,  in  any 
form,  it  may  please  the  reader  to  see.  He  prefaces  his  poem  by  a  remark 
that  the  avoidance  of  the  literal  fact  is  an  imperative  condition  of  the  art, 
whether  of  poet  or  painter — a  rather  vague  enunciation  of  liie  simple  princi- 
ple that  the  literal  is  not  the  province  of  the  imagination.  But  here  is  his 
version  of  the  narrative. 

BAYARD.— A  Tale. 

Love  ofttimes  in  the  haughtiest  knight 

His  easiest  conquest  sees  ; 
The  plume  that  leads  the  foremost  fight 

The  toy  to  ev'ry  breeze. 

More  fair  than  rose  at  dawning  day 

When  May  her  zephyr  seeks, 
The  blossom  of  the  human  May, 

The  rose  on  virgin  cheeks. 

If  Love  has  charms,  why,  wealth  has  pow'r,  — 

Her  sire  the  slave  of  gold. 
Alas  !  that  for  the  glittering  shovv'r 

The  Danae  should  be  sold  ! 

She  stood  before  him  at  the  night. 

Unfriended  and  alone  ; 
And  o'er  her  charms  the  tempting  light 

From  silver  cressets  shone. 

She  stood,— above  her  bosom's  snow 

The  modest  hands  were  prest, 
And  voiceless  heaved,  in  ebb  and  flow, 

The  deeps  within  the  breast. 

She  stood  ; — the  ivory  shoulders  down 

The  glittering  tresses  stray'd 
Like  light  that  from  a  martyr's  crown 

A  halo  round  her  made.  # 


THE    MOTHER.  309 

morning  he  sent  for  the  mother.  *'  Woman,"  said  he,  stern- 
ly addressing  her,  "art  thou  not  the  most  wretched  creature 
in  the  world  that,  having  a  daughter  who  hath  hitherto  led 

So  fair  a  form,  in  holy  cell, 

The  saint  I  ween  might  see  ; 
And  o'er  that  form  his  glances  fell, — 

"  No  saint,  alas  !  was  he  !" 

He  moved,  he  spoke,  he  knelt,  he  sued — 

The  noblest  of  the  land  ; 
With  gentlest  words  the  master  wooed, 

And  clasp'd  the  victim's  hand  ! 

Then  o'er  the  marble  cheek  there  flush'd 

The  hues  that  went  and  came  ; 
And  to  the  lip,  in  trembling  rush'd 

The  words  of  hope  and  shame. 

"  Oh  !  spare  me, — spare  me,  noble  knight, 

The  child  a  sire  could  doom. 
And  leave  to  life  the  stainless  light 

That  sanctifies  the  tomb  ! 

"  This  morn  mine  eyes  could  greet  the  sun, — 

Ah  !  shall  they  loathe  the  ray, — 
To-morrow,  scorn'd  by  every  one, 

Whose  love  approved  to-day  ? 

"  This  morn,  methought  the  voice  of  pray'r 

The  gates  of  heaven  could  ope  !— 
To-morrow, — O  !  how  prays  Despair, 

When  naught  is  left  for  Hope? 

"This  morn — why  should  I  blush  to  speak? — 

I  loved,  beloved  again; 
Nay,  not  the  love  that  fires  thy  cheek — 

A  love  that  could  not  stain  1 

"  This  hour,  unconscious,  sad,  alone. 

His  lips  repeat  my  name  ; 
To-day  his  pride  ; — to-morrow  grown, 

Oh,  God  !  into  his  shame  ! 

"  Before  thy  thousand  wreaths  of  bay, 
One  leaf  how  poor  and  dim  ! 


310  BAYARD    REBUKES    HER. 

an  honest  life,  a  pure  and  beautiful  creature,  with  a  heart 
set  upon  a  virtuous  affection,  thou  should'st  go  about  to 
corrupt  her !" 

A  thousand  flowrets  glad  thy  way, 
Bui  / — am  all  to  him. 

"  Turn  not,  O  !  turn  not !"    From  her  eyes 

His  hands  his  aspect  hid  ! 
Perchance  the  thought  the  speech  denies, 

The  startled  conscience  chid  ' 

Perchance  the  haunted  Past  along 

Th'  accusing  riiemory  stray'd, 
And  woke  the  pale  repentant  throng 

By  young  Desire  betray'd  ; 

Perchance,  to  that  blest  hour  the  birth 

Of  holier  thoughts  was  given. 
And  wings,  no  more  to  stoop  to  earth, 

Regain'd  their  native  heaven  ! 

"  No  mail  like  innocence  secure  ! 

Await,  and  tremble  not; 
The  angel-buckler  guards  the  pure," 

He  said — and  left  the  spot ! 

The  midnight  hour  the  church-bell  toU'd, — 

Oh  !  heart,  more  loud  thy  beat ; 
A  step — a  voice — a  form — behold 

Thy  lover  at  thy  feet ! 

"  Look  up  I  look  up  ! — I  claim  my  bride  ' 

The  evil  days  are  past ; — 
The  gold  my  fate  till  now- denied, 

Js  mine — is  ours  at  last ! 

"  By  Bayard's  side  my  father  fell, — 

The  son  the  hero  found ; 
And — "  ere  the  rest  his  lips  could  tell. 

They  heard  the  bugles  sound  ; 

They  heard  the  ringing  hoofs  depart ; 

Aloft  the  pennon  flow'd, 
And  from  the  town,  with  lighter  heart, 

The  noble  Bayard  rode  • 


HE    PORTIONS    THE    DAUGHTER.  311 

The  mother,  who  was  a  reduced  gentlewoman,  shrunk 
and  trembled  before  the  severe  aspect  and  language  of 
the  knight.  When  she  found  her  utterance,  she  pleaded 
her  necessities  and  the  poverty  of  her  condition ;  but  to 
this  plea  Bayard  gave  no  ear. 

"  That  you  have  been  a  gentlewoman  makes  your  guilt 
the  worse,  and  should  increase  your  punishment.  But 
what  is  this  person  who  seeks  your  daughter  in  maniage  ? 
Is  he  a  proper  man  ]     Is  he  worthy  of  her  love  ]" 

The  answer  was  affirmative.  The  obstacle  to  their 
maiTiage  was  their  mutual  poverty.  Six  hundred  floiins 
were  required  as  the  marriage  portion  of  the  damsel. 

"  That  shall  be  no  longer  an  obstacle.  Here,  madam," 
said  he,  giving  her  a  purse, — "  here  are  three  hundred 
crowns,  two  hundred  of  which  are  equal  to  six  hundred 
florins  of  Grenoble.  The  remaining  hundred  you  will 
give  to  your  daughter  that  she  may  procure  her  bridal 
garments.     Go  now,  and  see  that  she  is  married." 

The  good  knight  paused  not  to  listen  to  the  thanks  and 
praises  of  the  wretched  mother,  whom  he  thus  deprived 
of  all  motive  to  the  commission  of  a  most  unnatural  crime. 
But  his  eyes  were  not  withdrawn  from  those  he  served. 
One  of  his  followers  was  entrusted  with  the  charge  of 
them  until  the  marriage  was  over,  an  event  which  fol- 
lowed within  three  days.  Certainly,  Pierre  Bayard  was 
no  saint ;  but  what  mortal,  not  positively  a  saint,  was  ever 
sweeter  in  his  courtesy,  purer  in  his  passion,  and  more 
generous,  with  no  other  motive  save  that  of  love  for 
human  nature.  And  love  was  sufficient  motive ;  for  never 
has  it  been  that  human  being  more  universally  acquired 
the  affection  of  those  who  came  to  know  him,  than  himself. 
His  conquests  of  the  heart  were  even  more  numerous 
than  those  which  he  made  in  battle. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


Those  were  not  days  of  repose,  and  the  "  tangles  of 
Naeera's  hair"  could  not  long  detain  the  soul  of  knighthood 
from  the  fields  of  war.  Recovered  wholly  from  his  wounds, 
Bayard  obeyed  the  requisition  of  the  king,  his  sovereign, 
to  resume  his  place  in  his  armies.  The  provocation  this 
time  came  from  Spain.  The  small  kingdom  of  Navarre 
lies  on  the  frontiers  between  France  and  Spain.  John 
d'Albret,  its  monarch,  was  an  ally  and  friend  of  Louis. 
With  Louis  and  John  under  the  ban  of  the  Church  — 
with  the  araiies  of  the  foi-mer,  discomfited  in  Italy, — it 
seemed  a  fitting  opportunity  for  Ferdinand  of  Arragon, 
whose  arms  were  at  this  time  greatly  strengthened  by 
an  English  force  under  the  Marquis  of  Dorset,  to  possess 
himself  of  a  very  desirable,  contiguous  tenitory.  On  vari- 
ous pretexts,  he  urged  such  conditions  upon  the  King 
of  Navarre,  as  the  latter,  without  discrediting  his  royalty, 


WAR    IN    NAVARRE.  313 

could  not  submit  to.  The  consequence,  as  Ferdinand  had 
determined,  was  an  invasion  of  the  territories  of  the  former, 
by  the  Duke  of  Alva,  who  soon  possessed  himself  of  Pam- 
peluna  and  many  other  towns  of  the  kingdom.  The  King 
of  NaVarre,  whose  indolence  would  have  lost  all  the  king- 
doms that  could  be  confided  to  him  by  the  most  indulgent 
bounty,*  applied  for  succor  to  the  King  of  France,  who 
willingly  listened  to  the  application.  The  command  of  the 
French  troops  was  confided  to  the  Duke  de  Longueville 
and  the  Count  de  Montpensier;  but  they,  differing  in  some 
respects,  chiefly  because  of  the  ill  success  which  distin- 
guished their  prosecution  of  the  war,  the  title  of  general- 
issimo was  subsequently  conferred  upon  the  Count  d'An- 
gouleme,  afterward  the  celebrated  Francis  I. 

In  this  army,  which  did  nothing  in  this  war  for  the  de- 
fence of  Navarre,  v^e  discern  the  most  famous  captains  of 
the  time — the  Viscount  Lautrec,  La  Palisse,  with  w^hom 
we  are  already  so  familiar,  and  our  own  Chevalier  Bayard. 
They  penetrated  the  seat  of  struggle,  and  approached  the 
forces  of  Spain,  under  the  Duke  of  Alba,  who  had  encamp- 
ed near  Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port.  Here,  the  Count  d'An- 
gouleme,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  formally 
sent  a  cartel  to  his  enemy ;  but  the  Duke  of  Alba  replied, 
that  though  very  much  honored  by  the  invitation,  nothing 
could  persuade  him  to  fight,  except  w^hen  it  was  his  humor 
to  do  so.  This,  if  not  the  actual  language,  was  the  amount 
of  his  reply.  Meanwhile,  the  king  of  Navarre,  penetrating 
his  kingdom  by  the  Val-de-Roncal,  captured  several  small 
places,  and  proceeded  to  march  upon  Pampeluna.  This 
drew  the  eyes  of  the  Duke  of  Alba  upon  him,  who  instantly 
struck  his  tents  at  Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port,  and  took  the 
same  direction.  The  king  of  Navan-e,  who  had  it  in  his 
power  to  seize  upon  the  defiles  by  which  the  duke  would 

*  His  queen,  a  woman  of  high  spirit,  is  reported  to  have  said  to  him, 
"  Had  you  been  Mademoiselle  Catherine,  and  I  Don  John,  we  had  never 
lost  our  kingdom."    And  she  no  doubt  spoke  the  truth. 

Dd 


314  THE    SIEGE. 

be  compelled  to  pass,  committed  the  eiTor  of  neglecting 
them  entirely ;  the  consequence  of  which  was,  that  the  gar- 
rison of  Pampeluna  received  ample  succors,  and  the  Span- 
ish general  took  a  position  sufficiently  contiguous  to  afford 
farther  assistance  to  the  place,  should  it  be  needed.  In 
spite  of  this  blunder,  and  the  evil  results  which  followed  it, 
the  King  of  Navarre  persevered  in  pressing  the  siege  of  the 
place.  In  doing  so,  it  was  found  that  there  was  a  castle 
some  four  leagues  from  Pampeluna,  which,  as  a  source  of 
annoyance,  it  was  necessary  to  conquer.  It  is  with  the  di- 
vision of  the  French  army,  led  by  La  Palisse,  and  accom- 
panying the  King  of  Navarre  in  person,  that  we  find  the 
Chevalier  Bayard.  To  him  it  was  confided,  to  make  him-< 
self  master  of  this  castle,  which  was  strong,  rather  because 
of  its  massive  works  and  its  position,  than  because  of  the 
number  of  its  defenders.  Bayard  took  with  him,  on  this 
adventure,  his  own  company  of  horse,  a  small  troop  of  ad- 
venturers from  that  of  Captain  Bonneval,  and  some  eight 
hundred  German  lansquenets,  with  four  pieces  of  artillery. 
A  portion  of  this  force  was  designed  to  overawe  the  inhab- 
itants of  a  neighboring  town,  called  Puente  de  la  Regna, 
who  might  otherwise  have  been  inclined  to  help  the  castle 
in  the  moment  of  conflict.  His  troops,  properly  disposed 
for  the  two  objects,  of  keeping  the  town  in  order,  and  cap- 
turing the  castle ;  Bayard  summoned  the  latter  to  surren- 
der ;  offering  to  deal  mercifully  with  the  gaiTJson,  leaving 
them  in  possession  of  life  and  property,  if  the  place  was 
yielded  without  a  struggle  ;  and  threatening  them,  on  re- 
fusal, with  all  the  ten'ors  of  a  storm.  But  the  captain  of 
the  Spaniards  stoutly  answered  with  a  defiance,  and  the 
artillery  promptly  opened  upon  the  walls.  The  garrison, 
meanwhile,  fought  stubbornly  with  their  arquebusses-a-croc 
and  falconets,  but  could  not  prevent  the  artillery  of  the  be- 
siegers from  effecting  a  breach  in  the  space  of  an  hour's 
cannonade.  The  opening  was  sufficiently  large,  but  as  it 
required  to  be  ascended,  it  was  thought  a  rather  inconve- 


JOHN    DE    LA    VERGNE.  315 

nient  one.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  opinion  of  the  lansque- 
nets, who,  on  being  required  to  advance  to  the  assault,  put 
forward  a  spokesman,  who  averred,  that  it  was  a  custom 
among  them,  whenever  a  place  was  to  be  taken  by  assault, 
to  require  double  pay.  They  added,  that  if  this  rule  were 
not  complied  with  in  the  present  instance,  they  should  not 
go  to  the  attack.  Bayard  replied,  quietly,  that  he  knew  of 
no  such  rule ;  but  said  to  them,  that,  if  the  castle  was  taken, 
he  would  answer  for  it,  that  they  should  receive  all  that 
they  required.  He  yielded,  against  his  will,  to  their  requi- 
sitions, simply  to  avoid  the  loss  of  time.  But  his  concession 
did  not  satisfy  these  mercenaries,  and  all  his  arguments 
failed  to  persuade  a  single  lansquenet  to  mount  the  breach. 
The  French  adventurers,  from  the  foot-soldiers  of  Captain 
Bonneval,  showed  a  better  spirit,  and  resolutely  advanced  to 
the  assault ;  but  their  numbers  were  quite  too  few  for  the 
object,  and,  after  two  or  three  repulses.  Bayard  saw  that 
other  processes  were  to  be  tried.  The  besieged  had  shown 
him  that  they  knew  something  about  fighting.  Bayard  had 
resources,  however,  wdthin  himself,  of  which  neither  the 
lansquenets  nor  the  garrison  had  dreamed.  Causing  the 
retreat  to  be  sounded,  he  withdrew  his  adventurers  from 
the  breach,  and  proceeded  to  renew  his  cannonade,  osten- 
sibly with  the  view  to  widening  the  breach ;  but,  while  the 
artillery  was  playing,  he  called  to  his  side  a  very  gallant 
fellow,  one  of  his  gendarms,  named  John  de  la  Vergne, 
whom,  on  account  of  his  diminutive  size,  they  called  famil- 
iarly Little  John  de  la  Vergne.  Bayard  knew  his  man. 
He  directed  his  eye  to  a  tower  at  one  of  the  comers  of  the 
castle,  opposite  to  the  side  which  he  was  battering.  "  Take 
with  you,"  he  said,  "  some  thirty  or  forty  men,  and  when  I 
shall  recommence  the  assault,  lead  them  aside,  and,  with 
two  or  three  ladders  essay  to  mount  that  tower.  My  life 
on  it,  you  will  find  none  to  defend  it.  They  will  be  here 
fighting  with  us.  Away  now,  and  win  yourself  great  credit 
as  you  win  the  tower." 


316  THE    SURPRISE. 

Little  John  admirably  comprehended  the  duty  assigned 
him.  The  signal,  for  the  assault  in  front,  was  that  for  his 
movement  also.  While  the  main  body  of  the  adventurers 
rushed  to  the  breach,  he  stole  aside  M^ith  the  companions 
he  had  chosen,  and  succeeded,  unseen  and  unsuspected,  in 
making  his  w^ay  to  the  foot  of  the  tovi^er.  There  he  planted 
his  ladder  and  began  the  ascent.  The  conflict,  meanwhile, 
was  fiercely  urged  in  front.  The  garrison,  as  Bayard  pre- 
dicted, had  crowded  Jfrom  every  quarter  of  the  castle  to 
that  which  was  threatened  with  the  greatest  danger.  The 
clamor  at  their  gates  drew  all  their  attention.  The  clash 
of  their  own  weapons  silenced  all  other  sounds.  Little 
John  de  la  Vergne  executed  his  mission  successfully. 
Man  after  man  ascended  the  tower,  to  the  number  of 
fifty,  and  it  was  only  when  they  took  the  Spaniards  in 
the  rear,  with  the  cry  of  "  France  and  Navarre" — cries 
which  scarcely  fell  upon  them  more  suddenly  than  the 
blows  which  followed  them — did  they  dream  of  any  foe 
but  those  in  front.  Daunted  as  they  necessanly  were, 
the  besieged  fought  bravely,  but  their  efforts  availed  them 
nothing.  The  assailants  at  the  breach,  encouraged  by 
the  cries  from  within,  took  new  heart,  and  made  their  way 
in,  also,  in  spite  of  every  obstacle.  Between  the  two  ene- 
mies the  brave  gan-ison  were  very  soon  knocked  upon 
the  head,  or  admitted  to  terms  of  mercy.  The  place 
was  then  rendered  dismantled,  and  given  up  to  sack  and 
pillage. 

But  now  came  the  lansquenets  forward.  They  had 
the  impudence  to  demand  of  Bayard  the  fulfilment  of 
his  promise,  that,  if  the  place  was  taken,  they  should 
receive  double  pay.  Our  "Good  Knight"  could  not 
suppress  his  indignation.  These  mercenaries  had  done 
nothing. 

"  They  are  more  likely  to  receive  a  halter  at  my  hands, 
than  any  other  compensation  !"  was  his  fierce  response  to 
their  captain ;  "  away  to  your   worthless   scoundrels,  and 


THE    LANSaUENETS.  317 

say  to  them  that  I  shall  indeed  speak  of  the  matter  to  my 
Lord  de  la  Palisse,  and  to  their  captain-general,  but  it  will 
be  to  have  them  cashiered.      They  are  not  worth  a  single 


sous 


I" 


This  answer  occasioned  loud  outcries  among  the  lans- 
quenets, who  began  to  exhibit  symptoms  of  a  spirit  which 
led  Bayard  to  apprehend  that  he  should  be  compelled  to 
fight  his  way  through  them,  as  well  as  through  the  walls 
of  the  Spaniards.  He  accordingly  made  his  people  sound 
to  horse  ;  and,  arranging  his  gendarms  and  the  adventurers, 
in  anticipation  of  their  assault,  he  prepared,  if  they  made  a 
show  of  hostility,  to  do  his  best  in  cutting  them  to  pieces. 
But  the  courage  which  required  double  pay,  as  a  stimulant 
to  valor  after  the  battle  had  begun,  was  not  likely  to  assail 
those  who,  in  spite  of  them,  had  proved  the  conquerors  on 
the  occasion.  The  lansquenets  were  quieted  by  their  offi- 
cers, and  followed  with  the  rest,  to  rejoin  the  main  army 
before  Pampeluna. 

The  affair  was  destined  to  have  a  somewhat  ludicrous 
termination.  Bayard  that  night  gave  a  supper,  at  which  he 
had  many  of  the  chief  men  of  the  army,  among  whom 
was  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  the  captain-general  of  all  the 
lansquenets  in  camp,  and  they  numbered  some  six  or  seven 
thousand.  The  repast  was  nearly  over,  when  a  lansquenet, 
who  had  been  drinking  pietty  freely,  made  his  appearance 
at  the  enti-ance  of  the  apartment,  and  was  somewhat  stag- 
gered at  the  imposing  presence  in  which  he  found  himself. 
When  asked  whom  he  sought,  he  answered, 

"Captain  Bayard — whom  I  come  to  kill." 

This  was  said  in  broken  French,  which  Captain  Pierre- 
pont  sufficiently  understood  to  report. 

"  Here,  my  lord,"  said  he  to  Bayard,  "  here  is  a  lans- 
quenet, who  seeks  you  that  he  may  slay  you." 

Bayard  was  no  martinet.  With  a  mirthful  countenance, 
and  with  the  gi'eatest  good-humor  in  the  world,  he  started 
instantly  from  the  table,  sword  in  hand,  exclaiming,  "  Oh  ! 


*S    S  A    SCENE    AT    SUPPER. 

does  he  1"  Then,  approaching  the  lansquenet,  he  said, — 
"Is  it  you  who  seek  to  slay  Captain  Bayard*?  Well! — 
here  he  is, — and  now  defend  yourself!" 

The  proceeding  was  quite  too  prompt  for  our  lansque- 
net, who,  between  bad  liquor  and  bad  counsel,  had  gone 
badly  to  work,  and,  terribly  frightened,  in  broken  French, 
proceeded  to  say  that  the  determination  was  not  enter- 
tained by  him  alone,  but  by  all  the  lansquenets  in  the  army. 
"  Mercy  upon  us !  What ! — all  the  lansquenets !"  ex- 
claimed Bayard.  "  Then  it  is  time  for  me  to  cry  peccavi. 
Quarter,  my  comrade !  You  shall  give  me  quarter.  I 
might  fight  against  you,  or  any  other  one  man  ;  but  against 
seven  thousand,  the  case  is  altered.  Comi-ade,  we  must 
come  to  composition!"  With  these  words,  scarcely  con- 
taining his  laughter — that  of  the  company  was  uncon- 
trolled— he  conducted  the  drunken  mercenary  to  the  table, 
and  seated  him  at  the  board,  vis-a-vis  with  himself,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  his  nobler  guests.  Here  he  plied  him 
with  attentions.  The  fellow's  goblet  was  filled  and  refilled, 
and  the  good  knight  drank  with  him,  proceeding,  as  he  had 
begun,  in  such  playful  wise,  with  so  much  grace,  good- 
humor,  and  adroitness  that,  while  the  company  were  con- 
vulsed with  the  scene,  the  redoubtable  lansquenet  became 
ravished  with  his  tormentor.  So  far  from  killing  him,  he 
swore  that  he  would  become  his  champion — that  nobody 
should  kill  him — that  he  was  the  worthiest  man  he  had 
ever  met,  and  kept  the  best  of  liquors.  The  stoiy  was 
a  three  days'  amusement  for  the  camp,  and  effectually 
disarmed  the  hostility  of  the  lansquenets. 

The  siege  of  Pampeluna  was  urged  unsuccessfully. 
The  place,  reinforced  by  the  Duke  of  Alba,  and  encour- 
aged by  his  proximity,  was  kept  by  that  "  gentle  Span- 
ish knight,"  Hernandez  de  Cordoba,  Alcayde  de  los 
Donzeles.  He  maintained  the  defence  with  a  steady 
valor  and  an  undeviating  prudence,  which  gave  the  lea- 
guers no  advantages.     He   had  sustained   gallantly,   and 


SKIRMISHES.  Slfij 

with  success,  one  temble  assault,  and  repulsed  his  enemies. 
They  were  preparing  for  a  second,  when  a  new  army  of 
Spaniards  made  its  appearance,  under  the  command  of  the 
Duke  of  Najara.  This  compelled  the  King  of  Navarre  to 
raise  the  siege,  and  begin  a  retreat  in  season,  from  a  power 
which  was  accumulating  very  far  beyond  his  own.  Other 
circumstances  contributed  to  this  necessity.  The  besieging 
troops  were  suffering  great  distress  for  want  of  proA^sions. 
They  had  unwisely  ravaged  the  country,  and  carelessly  and 
wantonly  wasted  its  resources.  A  famine  threatened  them 
even  while  they  were  preparing  for  a  second  assault,  look- 
ing for  their  supplies  to  the  granaries  of  the  garrison. 
Disappointed  in  this  hope,  they  raised  the  siege  at  noon- 
day, with  a  melancholy  prospect  before  them,  abandoning 
their  artillery  at  the  foot  of  the  rugged  passes  of  the  moun- 
tains, over  which,  in  their  enfeebled  state,  it  was  something 
of  a  tiial  to  make  their  own  way.  To  the  providence,  the 
vigilance,  the  skill,  and  courage  of  Bayard,  on  this  retreat, 
the  safety  of  the  araiy  is  ascribed.  But  for  him,  it  is 
admitted,  they  had  never  regained  theii'  country.  His 
renown  was  increased  accordingly.  His  intrepidity  and 
sangfroid  seem  to  have  been  equal.  He  indulged  in  his 
pleasantries — which  were  always  graceful,  and  those  of  the 
gentleman,  never  degenerating  into  horse  play — at  the  mo- 
ment of  greatest  distress  and  danger ;  and  thus  frequently 
succeeded  in  soothing  the  aspect  of  that  distress  which  it 
was  not  possible  in  any  way  to  overcome.  The  "  Loyal 
Servant"  tells  us  an  anecdote  of  this  retreat,  which  displays 
the  graceful  and  even  temper  of  his  mind,  and  the  cheerful 
elasticity  of  his  moods.  The  enemy  were  hanging  on  their 
flanks,  galling  them  in  their  flight  by  constant  alarms  and 
assaults.  On  one  occasion  the  day  had  been  spent  in 
skirmishing,  and  no  time  had  been  allowed  for  food  or 
refreshment.  With  night  only  did  they  find  a  respite ;  and, 
late  in  the  evening,  covered  with  sweat  and  dust,  the  Duke 
of  Suflblk,   sumaraed,  among  the  French,   "  The  White 


320  THE    RETREAT. 

Rose,"*  went  in  search  of  Bayard.  When  he  saw  him,  he 
said,  "  Captain  Bayard,  I  am  dying  of  hunger,  and  my 
people  tell  me  that  there  is  nothing  at  my  lodging.  Let 
me  sup  with  you." 

It  is  probable  that  the  captain  of  gendarms,  sweeping  a 
considerable  extent  of  country  on  horseback,  was  better 
able  to  provide  a  supper,  under  existing  circumstances, 
than  even  a  general  of  foot. 

"  Ay,  marry,  my  lord,  I  shall  entertain  you  well," 
was  the  pleasant  reply.  "  You  shall  sup  as  well  as  if 
you  were  in  Paris.  Ho !  there,  Master  Inghien,"  ad- 
dressing his  steward — "  see  now  that  you  despatch  our 
supper,  for  your  own  credit  as  well  as  mine." 

The  idea  of  supping  as  they  might  have  done  in  Pans 
consoled  the  duke  while  provoking  his  laughter.  He 
probably  contemplated  such  a  feast  as  that  of  the  Barme- 
cide in  the  Arabian  Tales.  He  had  fared,  for  two  days, 
on  nothing  better  than  bread  of  millet.  What  the  material 
of  the  repast  was,  on  this  occasion,  has  not  reached  us  ;  but 
if  Bayard  had  a  Parisian  cook,  it  is  not  improbable  that, 
even  in  the  present  exigencies  of  the  army,  he  might 
astound  the  heavy  islanders  by  the  resources  of  his  genius, 
if  not  of  the  commissaiiat.  Of  the  horrors  of  this  retreat, 
chiefly  because  of  famine,  some  notion  may  be  gained  from 
the  fact  that  numbers  of  the  wretched  infantry  destroyed 
themselves  on  reaching  Bayonne,  by  a  surfeit  of  food.  The 
expedition  had  proved  altogether  disastrous,  yielding  neither 
spoil  nor  honor  to  those  who  had  yet  gone  forth  in  support 
of  the  oppressed.  The  redeeming  circumstance  in  their 
progress  was  their  return.  The  retreat  of  the  French, 
it  is  admitted,  was  admirably  performed,  the  credit  of 
which  was  almost  wholly  due  to  Bayard.  Meanwhile,  the 
*  Richard  de  la  Pole,  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Suffolk,  whom  Henry  VIII. 
beheaded.  The  former  attempted  to  revive  the  York  faction,  and  to  instigate 
them  against  the  existing  government— baffled,  he  fled  to  France,  and 
made  an  oflTicer  in  the  French  service,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  allotted  the 
command  of  the  lansquenets. 


SEA-FIGHT.  321 

death  of  Pope  Julius  had  relieved  France  from  an  im- 
placable enemy.  His  successor,  the  world-renowned  Leo  X., 
at  an  early  period  of  his  reign,  declared  himself  free  from 
any  hostile  feeling  toward  the  French,  and  thus  opened 
the  door  for  a  pacification.  But  Louis  could  not  forego 
his  designs  upon  the  Milanese,  and  the  new  Pope  was 
sufficiently  patriotic  to  desire  the  expulsion  of  all  foreign- 
ers, who  came  as  invaders,  from  the  Italian  territories.  It 
was  while  the  King  of  France  was  preparing  to  renew 
his  attempts  upon  the  duchy  of  Milan  that  a  fleet  and 
army  of  English  made  their  appearance  upon  the  coast  of 
Brittany.  This  fleet  was  of  forty-five  sail,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Sir  Thomas  Knevet.  He  carried  with  him  Sir 
Charles  Brandon,  Sir  John  Carew,  and  a  cloud  of  young 
courtiers,  anxious  to  win  their  spurs  and  display  their 
valor.  But  nothing  was  achieved  by  the  expedition,  which 
was  remarkable  for  a  single  sea  fight,  in  which  the  heroism 
of  a  French  captain  was  distinguished.  While  the  English 
were  committing  some  small  depredations  upon  the  coast 
of  France,  a  French  fleet  commanded  by  Primaugay, 
issued  from  Brest,  and  boldly  gave  them  battle.  The  flag- 
ship of  the  French  admiral  was  La  Cordeliere,  a  large 
vessel  which  the  Queen  of  France  had  built  at  her  own  ex- 
pense. She  selected,  as  her  particular  antagonist,  the  vessel 
of  the  English  admiral,  the  Regent,  a  ship  of  very  great  ^ 
size.  La  Cordeliere  taking  fire,  Primaugay  found  it  im- 
possible to  save  her.  He  bore  down  accordingly  upon  the 
English  admiral,  and  succeeded  in  grappling  with  her. 
Fastening  the  two  vessels  together,  he  doomed  them  to  a 
common  fate.  His  design  was  successful.  The  opposing 
fleets  hauled  off*  from  the  contest,  paralyzed  at  the  sight  of 
a  conflict  which  was  so  terrible.  They  saw  the  devouring 
flames  spreading  on  every  side,  and  heard  the  mingling 
cries  of  fury  and  despair  which  came  from  the  doomed  and 
suff*ering  combatants.  Primaugay,  having  thus  decreed 
the  fate   of  his  foe,   did   not    shrink  from  his   own.     He 


322  WAR    IN    ITALY    RESUMED. 

avoided  the  flames  by  leaping,  in  full  armor,  into  the  sea. 
When  the  explosion  came,  which  tore  the  two  ships  asun- 
der, in  blackened  fragments  which  covered  the  deep,  the 
opposing  fleets,  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  drew  apart  in  con- 
sternation, and  they  separated  without  farther  fighting. 

With  this  event  concluded  the  efforts  of  Heniy  VIII.,  for 
the  present  season,  against  the  dominions  of  the  French 
king,  and  afforded  to  the  latter  an  opportunity  of  resuming 
his  long-cherished  passion  for  the  conquest  of  Italy.  Leo 
X.,  whose  family  had  found  protection  and  favor  in  France, 
when  expelled  from  their  native  place,  was  anxious  to  avert 
all  causes  of  collision  with  the  country  where  he  had  found 
refuge.  He  was,  besides,  of  a  pacific  spirit,  and  loved  bet- 
ter the  triumphs  of  arts  than  arms.  He  perceived  that 
Louis  had  succeeded  in  persuading  the  Venetians  from  their 
former  alliance,  and  in  uniting  their  efforts  with  his  own. 
He  addressed  himself  in  a  friendly  appeal  both  to  Louis 
and  the  Seignory  of  Venice,  entreating  them  to  spare  Italy 
from  a  renewal  of  those  terrible  calamities  of  war  from 
which  she  had  not  yet  recovered.  At  the  same  time,  not 
confiding  very  much  in  the  result  of  these  entreaties,  and 
the  argumentative  suggestions  by  which  they  were  accom- 
panied, the  Pope  proceeded  to  the  adoption  of  more  effect- 
ual measures  of  defence,  if  not  of  prevention.  Maximilian 
was  subsidized  with  money  beguiled  from  Henry  VIII., 
and  both  of  these  readily  entered  into  a  new  alliance 
against  France,  to  which  Ferdinand  of  Arragon  was  nat- 
urally a  party  as  well  as  the  Pope.  A  large  body  of  Swiss 
mercenaries  were  also  engaged  to  unite  with  the  Spanish 
forces,  and  to  second  the  efforts  of  Maximilian  Sforza,  in 
the  defence  of  his  duchy  of  Milan.  This  alliance  did  not 
discourage  Louis  from  the  prosecution  of  his  enterprise ; 
and  an  army  consisting  of  fifteen  hundred  men-at-arms,  eight 
hundred  light-horse,  and  fourteen  thousand  foot,  among  which 
were  the  celebrated  bandes  noires,  under  the  command  of 
the  Duke  de  la  Tremouille,  assisted  by  the  Italian  general, 


BAl-TLE    OF    NOVARA.  323 

Gian-Giacopo  Trivulzio,  marshal  of  France,  descended 
from  Susa  into  Lombardy.  In  their  progi'ess  they  possess- 
ed themselves  of  Asti  and  Alessandiia,  while  their  adherents 
in  Milan,  succeeded  in  throwing  into  the  citadel  of  that  place, 
which  the  French  had  continued  to  hold,  additional  troops 
and  ample  supplies  of  provisions.  Genoa  was  recovered 
about  the  same  time  by  a  French  fleet,  and  in  consequence 
of  a  popular  rising  in  their  favor.  The  Venetians,  their 
allies,  were  busy,  also,  attacking  the  city  of  Cremona  ;  they 
reinforced  the  citadel,  which  the  French  still  garrisoned. 
Bergamo  opened  her  gates  to  the  banner  of  St.  Mark, 
Brescia  followed  the  example,  and  all  the  auspices  seemed 
favorable  to  the  new  war  of  conquest  which,  so  far,  had 
been  waged  by  France  and  Venice  with  equal  unanimity, 
-sdgor,  and  good  fortune.  The  whole  of  the  Milanese  was 
now  in  their  possession,  except  Como  and  Novara.  These 
places  still  adhered  to  Sforza,  who,  with  his  Swiss  allies, 
had  retired  to  the  latter.  Hither  the  French  advanced, 
elated  with  success;  and,  laying  siege  to  Novara,  they  bat- 
tered it  with  a  formidable  train  of  artillery.  At  this  critical 
juncture  the  approach  of  a  rather  large  body  of  the  Swiss 
was  announced  to  the  French  commander.  This  intelli- 
gence prompted  him  to  retire  from  before  Novara,  and  to 
encamp  at  the  Rotta,  two  miles  distant.  The  Swiss,  newly 
aiTived,  having  formed  a  junction  vnth  the  forces  in  Novara, 
it  was  resolved  among  them  to  proceed  to  the  attack  of  the 
French,  without  waiting  for  other  forces  which  were  known 
to  be  upon  the  road.  Before  the  break  of  day,  on  the 
7th  of  June,  1513,  they  made  a  furious  assault  upon  the 
French  in  their  entrenchments.  The  latter,  though  scarce- 
ly prepared  for  the  attack  at  that  moment,  had  not  been  re- 
gardless of  the  spirit  and  the  numbers  of  their  enemy.  An 
engagement  ensued  which  was  supported  on  both  sides 
with  great  constancy  and  courage  for  several  hours.  The 
artillery  of  the  French,  brought  to  bear  successfully  upon 
their  assailants,  disordered  their  advance  and  thinned  their 


324  ROBERT    DE    LA    MARCK. 

numbers,  but  could  not  subdue  the  spirit  or  discourage  the 
audacity  of  these  fierce  and  hardy  mountaineers.  Fighting 
for  pay,  they  had  yet  another  motive,  and  were  anxious  to 
show  their  hardihood  and  superiority  when  fighting  against 
the  French  monarch.  Louis  had  spoken  sUghtingly  of  their 
prowess,  and  had  striven  to  raise  an  infantry  from  his  own 
peasantry.  This  was  a  loss  of  employment  to  a  people  who 
had  become  the  mercenaries  of  all  Europe.  Besides,  the 
main  body  of  foot-soldiers  in  the  French  army  were  hirelings 
like  themselves,  but  they  came  from  Germany  ;  and  a  rival- 
ship  in  trade  naturally  provoked  an  intense  ambition  on  the 
part  of  the  Swiss  to  show  themselves  the  better  soldiers. 
They  made  the  most  astonishing  eflbrts,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
slaughter  of  their  van,  they  beat  down  opposition,  crossed 
the  entrenchments,  and  succeeded  in  seizing  on  the  artillery 
of  the  French,  which  they  now  turned  upon  its  former  own- 
ers. This  event  decided  the  fate  of  the  day.  The  rout  of 
the  French  became  general,  though  only  after  the  most  ad- 
mirable exhibition  of  valor.  It  was  their  misfortune  that, 
from  the  unwise  position  which  Trivulzio  had  taken,  the  cav- 
alry could  not  be  brought  into  action ;  and  this  constituted 
the  chivalry  of  the  whole  army,  and  was  tolerably  numerous 
besides.  The  slaughter  was  very  gi-eat  among  both  the 
combatants.  More  than  one  half  of  the  Swiss  perished  in 
their  murderous  desire  to  prove  their  superiority  to  the  Ger- 
man lansquenets.  And  they  did  so  most  effectively.  The 
latter,  deriving  but  small  support  from  the  cavalry,  were 
nearly  cut  to  pieces.  In  this  battle,  which  exhibited  many 
noble  instances  of  courage  and  valor,  one  in  particular  is 
recorded  of  Robert  de  la  Marck,  who,  at  the  head  of  a 
small  body  of  cavalry,  piercing  the  ranks  of  the  successful 
Swiss,  succeeded  in  liberating  his  two  sons,  both  of  whom, 
being  wounded,  had  been  made  prisoners.  The  French 
army  recrossed  the  Alps,  a  portion  of  it  being  despatched  to 
carry  on  the  war  in  Navarre ;  from  which,  however,  it  was 
soon  withdrawn  to  make  head  against  a  more  serious  dan- 


FRENCH    DEFEATED.  325 

ger,  the  descent  of  the  EngHsh  upon  Calais.  Thus  ended, 
in  defeat,  the  favorite  hope  of  Louis  XII,  to  possess  him- 
self of  Milan.  It  was  reserved  for  one  of  his  successors  to 
renew  the  bloody  conflict  for  the  attainment  of  this  too- 
much  desired  prize. 

E  E 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Henry  VIII.  of  England,  eager,  passionate  and  young, 
was  readily  beguiled  by  the  King  of  Arragon  and  the 
Pope,  into  the  appropriation  of  his  money  and  his  troops 
in  a  cause  which  they  persuaded  him  was  common  be- 
tween them.  He  had  found  the  means  for  subsidizing 
Maximilian ;  and,  by  a  poll-tax  which  he  imposed  upon  his 
subjects,  in  due  proportion  to  their  wealth  and  dignities, 
he  succeeded  in  levying  a  powerful  fleet  and  army  for  the 
invasion  of  France.  His  army  he  designed  to  command  in 
person.  The  vanguard  of  this  force,  amounting  to  eight 
thousand  men,  was  sent  forward  to  Calais,  under  the  Earl 
of  Shrewsbury ;  another  body  of  six  thousand  soon  follow- 
ed, commanded  by  the  chamberlain,  Lord  Herbert ;  and 
the  king  himself,  not  long  after,  attended  by  most  of  his 
nobility,  and  bringing  with  him  the  main  body  of  his  ti'oops, 
and  the  vanguard,  crossed  over  to  Calais.  He  was  soon 
joined  by  Maximilian,  who  was  base  enough  to  wear 
the  colors  of  his  brother  monarch,  and  to  take  pay,  at  an 
hundred  crowns  per  diem,  for  himself,  as  one  of  Henry's 
subjects  and  captains.  Before  the  arrival  of  the  two  kings 
in  the  camp,  the  English  earls  had  formed  the  siege 
of  Theroiienne,  a  town  situated  on  the  frontiers  of  Picardy. 
They  attacked  the  place  with  vigor.  It  was  held  by  two 
intrepid  captains,  Francis  de  Teligni  and  Antonio  de  Cre- 
qui.  These  brave  officers  opposed  to  their  assailants  a 
most  glorious  defence.  The  post  was  well  fortified,  but 
had  not  a  sufficient  supply  of  provisions  and  munitions  of 
war  for  sustaining  a  protracted  leaguer.  The  gamson 
consisted,  along  with  the  companies  of  these  two  captains, 


HENRY    VIII.  327 

of  a  small  body  of  French  infantry,  and  a  similar  force  of 
lansquenets  under  the  charge  of  Captain  Brandrec.  These 
were  all  hardy  and  experienced  soldiers,  to  whom  the 
town  might  well  be  confided,  with  every  assurance  that  they 
would  honorably  maintain  it  so  long  as  the  means  remained 
to  them  of  doing  so. 

While  the  cannon  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  and  Lord 
Herbert  were  rattling  against  the  walls  of  Theroiienne,  the 
King  of  England  commenced  his  march  from  Calais  for  the 
camp.  The  French  monarch  had  sent  against  him  a  con- 
siderable force,  commanded  by  Louis  de  Halucui,  the  lord 
of  Piennes,  and  governor  of  Picardy.  Bayard,  with  his 
company,  was  attached  to  this  army.  He  succeeded  in 
giving  a  severe  fright  to  the  English  monarch  on  the  line 
of  march,  and  might  have  realized  a  much  more  satisfacto- 
ry success,  but  for  the  timidity  of  his  commander.  The 
French  horse  were  twelve  hundred  in  number.  The 
English  and  Gemians,  whom  the  king  led,  consisted  of 
twelve  thousand  men,  of  whom  four  thousand  were  lans- 
quenets. They  had  no  cavalry.  The  French  hoi-se  hover- 
ed about  their  flanks,  watchflil  of  every  opportunity  to 
pounce  down  upon  their  prey.  They  approached  within 
cannon-shot  of  the  English,  and  so  confident  was  their  de- 
portment, that  Henry  began  to  fancy  that  he  was  betrayed. 
Dismounting  from  his  horse,  he  placed  himself  among  his 
lansquenets,  who  were,  fi'om  frequent  and  recent  service, 
better  practised  in  arms  than  the  English  at  that  period. 
Bayard  eagerly  demanded  permission  to  make  the  attack. 
He  urged,  to  the  Lord  de  Piennes,  that  no  evil  results  could 
follow — that,  if  repulsed,  they  could  not  be  pursued,  and, 
if  successful  in  breaking  through  them,  the  rout  of  the 
enemy  and  the  captivity  of  their  king  was  certain.  His 
companions  favored  this  opinion,  but  Piennes  rejected  it. 
He  would  incur  no  responsibility,  and  if  the  attempt  was 
made,  it  should  be  done  without  his  consent.  "  I  was 
charged  by  the  king,  my  master,"  said  he,  "  on  my  life,  to 

P 


328  CAPTURE    OF    A    SAINT. 

attempt  nothing,  but  to  guard  the  country  only.  Vexed  at 
this  denial,  Bayard,  with  his  company,  yet  made  a  dash 
at  the  rear  of  the  enemy,  and  succeeded  in  wresting  from 
them  one  of  the  twelve  pieces  of  cannon,  to  which  the 
pious  Henry  had  given  the  names  of  the  twelve  apostles. 
It  was  a  Saint  John  upon  which  the  violent  hands  of  our 
chevalier  was  laid.  He,  perhaps,  never  knew,  until  after- 
ward, the  irreverence  of  which  he  had  been  guilty.  The 
piece  was  fairly  won  and  carried  off  by  his  gendarms, 
while  the  English  troops  pressed  forward,  anxious  to  escape 
the  harassing  presence  of  a  foe,  against  which,  strangely 
enough,  they  had  taken  no  precautions.  The  Burgundian 
and  Hainault  bands,  under  Maximilian,  with  whom  came 
the  cavalry,  followed  after  him,  and  soon  added  to  the  for- 
midable array  by  which  Theroiienne  was  invested.  The 
cannonading  became  more  and  more  earnest,  and  the  be- 
sieged were  compelled  to  communicate  to  the  French 
monarch  that  they  began  to  suffer  from  the  want  of 
provisions. 

Louis  was  at  Amiens,  suffering  from  the  gout.  From 
this  place  he  sent  despatches  to  the  Lord  of  Piennes,  that 
Theroiienne  must  be  victualled  at  all  hazards.  But  this 
was  a  duty  which  it  was  more  easy  to  desire  done  than  to 
execute.  The  besiegers  were  equally  numerous  and  vigi- 
lant, and  the  leaguer  seemed  to  be  complete.  Neverthe- 
less, in  obedience  to  the  king's  mandates,  the  attempt  was 
to  be  made.  A  scheme  was  devised,  to  be  executed  on  a 
certain  day,  by  which,  while  a  certain  portion  of  the  French 
cavalry  were  to  raise  an  alarm  in  the  camp  of  the  be- 
siegers, another  body,  eight  hundred  in  number,  each  of 
whom  carried  a  sack  of  gunpowder  and  two  quartei^s  of 
bacon  behind  him,  were  to  make  a  sudden  in'uption  through 
another  part  of  the  encampment,  and  thus  convey  to  the 
garrison  the  relief  for  which  they  famished.  The  attempt 
was  thoroughly  successful.  The  Albanian  horse,  under  the 
lead  of  Fontrailles,  darted  through  the  lines  of  the  English, 


BATTLE    OF    GUINEGATTE.  329 

surmounting  all  resistance,  and  advanced  to  the  fosse  of 
the  town,  where  each  trooper  threw  down  his  burden. 
Wheeling  about,  they  were  quite  as  successful,  at  full  gal- 
lop, in  making  their  way  back  to  a  place  of  safety.  In 
this  brilliant,  but  dangerous  attempt,  they  suffered  but  little 
loss.  But  it  soon  became  necessary  again  to  supply  the 
garrison,  and  in  the  same  manner.  The  siege  was  a  tedi- 
ous one,  lasting  more  than  a  month  ;  and  the  obstinacy  of 
the  defence,  which  delayed  the  progress  of  the  invaders 
through  France,  was  an  object,  in  itself,  which  justified  any 
degree  of  hazard  in  its  attainment.  But  a  second  attempt 
upon  the  patience,  or  the  vigilance  of  the  besiegers,  did  not 
prove  quite  so  fortunate  as  the  first.  There  were  certain 
spies  employed  by  the  French,  whom  the  English  succeed- 
ed in  buying  over  to  their  purposes.  These  betrayed  the 
scheme,  and  advised  the  enemy  of  the  day  on  which  it  was 
to  be  put  in  execution.  The  event  which  followed  has 
been  frequently  reported,  to  the  discredit  of  the  French 
chivalry. 

The  English  laid  an  ambush  for  them  on  one  side  of  the 
river  Lys,  at  a  place  called  Guinegatte.  Here,  with  six 
thousand  archers,  four  thousand  lansquenets,  and  eight 
pieces  of  artillery,  they  lay  in  waiting  for  the  approach  of 
the  French  gens  d'arms.  These,  some  four  hnndred  in 
number,  were  despatched  to  the  heights  of  Guinegatte,  so 
as  to  draw  upon  themselves  the  attention  of  the  besiegers, 
while  Fontrailles,  with  the  Albanian  horse,  should  again 
penetrate,  with  their  supplies,  to  the  fosse  of  the  besieged 
city.  The  gens  d'arms  were  given  to  understand  that  their 
object  was  not  to  fight  with  the  enemy,  but  to  employ  and 
divert  his  attention.  When,  accordingly,  they  encountered 
the  ambush,  they  naturally  wheeled  about  to  retreat.  But 
not  allowed  to  do  so  at  their  leisure,  by  the  pressure  of  the 
English  cavaliy,  the  retreat  became  a  flight,  and,  though 
composed  of  some  of  the  best  gentlemen  of  France,  who 
had  long  before,  and  frequently,  distinguished  themselves  in 

E  E* 


330  PANIC    AND    FLIGHT. 

battle,  a  panic  took  place  among  them,  and  they  flew  in  such 
wild  haste,  as  to  throw  into  similar  disorder  the  rearguard 
of  their  own  body,  which  was  drawing  nigh  to  their  support, 
under  the  conduct  of  the  Duke  de  Longueville  and  the 
Sieur  de  la  Palisse.  With  these  came  Bayard  and  other 
captains,  such  as  were  not  to  be  frightened  easily;  but, 
maugre  their  presence  and  all  their  efforts,  the  panic-strick- 
en fugitives  continued  their  flight  to  Blangy,  where  the  in- 
fantry lay.  The  brave  men  paid  the  penalties  of  the  timid. 
They  threw  themselves  between  the  pursuing  cavalry  of 
the  enemy  and  their  fugitives  ;  and,  by  opposing  themselves 
to  the  unequal  struggle,  they  succeeded  in  saving  the  army 
of  the  French.  It  was  at  their  own  expense.  The  Duke 
de  Longueville  was  already  a  prisoner,  with  many  more. 
Bayard,  first  among  those  who  sought  to  arrest  this  dis- 
graceful flight,  was  the  last  to  bring  up  the  race.  Forced 
to  retire,  as  the  others  had  done,  he  did  so  slowly ;  and, 
with  but  fifteen  knights,  succeeded  still  in  repulsing  the  as- 
saults of  the  pursuers,  and  keeping  his  forlorn  squad  togeth- 
er. Reaching  a  naiTow  bridge,  where  but  two  men  could 
pass  abreast,  he  stopped  short,  and  told  his  companions 
that  it  was  possible  to  secure  the  passage  for  half  an  hour. 
Then,  sending  one  of  his  archers  at  full  speed  to  the  camp, 
he  bade  him  say  to  the  captain,  that  they  must  put  the 
army  in  order  of  battle,  and  make  a  prompt  but  stealthy 
march  toward  the  spot  which  he  occupied.  His  scheme 
was,  when  the  enemy  came  down  upon  him  in  all  the  dis- 
array of  the  pursuit,  to  encounter  them  unexpectedly  with 
the  army  of  the  French,  cool  and  properly  prepared,  and 
take  them  at  surprise  and  disadvantage.  Meantime,  the 
cavalry  of  the  Burgundians  and  Hainaulters  drew  nigh ;  and, 
finding  themselves  so  stoutly  and  successfully  withstood  by 
such  a  handful  as  that  upon  the  bridge,  were  exceedingly 
enraged.  Some  were  sent  back  to  bring  on  the  archers, 
while  a  couple  of  hundred  cavaliers,  following  the  course 
of  the  stream,  at  length  found  a  crossing-place  near  a  mill, 


BAYARD    A    PRISONER.  331 

which  brought  them  round  in  the  rear  of  our  hero.  Fight- 
ing gallantly  with  the  foe  in  front,  he  found  himself  sud- 
denly enclosed  on  both  sides,  and  by  a  force,  with  which, 
even  with  fresh  steeds,  and  unwearied  arms,  he  would 
not  have  found  it  possible  to  contend.  While  he  meditated 
surrender,  in  order  to  avoid  the  certain  death  which  must 
follow  the  arrival  of  the  archers,  the  enemy  set  upon  his 
little  troop  with  cries  of  "  Burgundy  !  Burgundy  !"  The 
French  sped  across  the  bridge,  and  each  trooper,  at  the  ad- 
vice of  Bayard,  made  his  surrender  to  the  individual  ene- 
my whom  he  first  encountered.  One  by  one,  they  yielded 
themselves — all  but  Bayard,  who,  as  he  left  the  bridge  for 
the  plain,  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  hostile  cavalier,  in  hand- 
some attire.  This  person,  thinking  the  fight  was  over,  and 
not  caring  to  make  prisoners,  had  taken  off  his  helmet,  and 
thrown  himself,  in  heat  and  exhaustion,  at  the  foot  of  a 
clump  of  little  trees.  To  the  consternation  of  the  sluggish 
knight,  our  chevalier  spuiTed  directly  upon  him,  and  point- 
ing his  sword  to  his  throat,  cried  out  to  him  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  ''Yield,  cavaUer,  or  you  die!"  Never  was  good 
knight  so  thoroughly  dismayed  and  confounded.  To  be 
made  a  prisoner  by  one  of  a  party,  whom,  at  that  very  mo- 
ment, his  own  followers  were  capturing  on  all  hands,  was 
certainly  an  event  which  it  had  never  entered  his  imagina- 
tion to  conceive.  But  the  case  was  urgent, — and  very 
much  chagrined,  he  answered, 

"  Well ;  since  I  am  taken  thus,  I  suppose  I  must  suiTen- 
der  !     But  who  are  you  1" 

"  I  am,"  said  our  good  knight,  "  Captain  Bayard,  and  it 
is  I,  sir,  who  surrender  to  you.  Be  pleased  to  take  me 
with  you.  Here  is  my  sword  ; — ^but  do  me  this  kindness, 
to  let  me  have  it  back  should  we  meet  with  any  English, 
who  may  offer  at  my  life." 

The  gentleman,  whom,  by  this  time,  we  may  suppose 
perfectly  cool,  was  highly  delighted  at  this  new  relationship 
between  himself  and  the  stranger,  and  readily  promised 


382  A    NEW    CASE. 

every  thing.  It  was  well  that  the  condition  had  been  re- 
quired ;  for  both  of  them,  before  the  English  camp  was 
reached,  were  compelled  to  use  their  weapons  upon  some 
of  the  stragglers,  whose  chief  occupation  seemed  to  be  the 
destruction  of  those  who,  as  the  captives  of  others,  could  no 
longer  do  them  hurt,  or  pay  them  ransom. 

The  knight  by  whom  Bayard  had  been  taken,  lodged 
him,  with  great  respect  and  distinction,  in  his  own  tent. 
Here,  after  the  lapse  of  four  or  five  days,  his  captive  said 
to  him,  "  My  good  sir,  I  shall  be  right  glad  if  you  will  give 
me  a  safe  conduct  to  the  camp  of  my  own  people,  for  I  am 
truly  wearied  with  remaining  here." 

"  How  say  you  ]"  said  the  other.  "  We  have  not  yet 
treated  of  your  ransom." 

"  My  ransom  !"  exclaimed  Bayard,  with  a  look  of  aston- 
ishment, whether  he  entertained  the  feeling  or  not.  "  Your 
own  ransom,  you  mean.  It  is  you  who  are  my  prisoner. 
You  suiTendered  to  me;  and  if,  after  you  gave  me  your 
word,  I  then  yielded  myself  up,  it  was  to  save  my  life  from 
others,  not  from  you.     Your's  was  at  my  mercy  !" 

Here  was  a  ruse  de  guerre.  Our  excellent  gentleman, 
who  had  so  prematurely  paused  to  cool  himself  and  take 
his  rest  before  the  battle  was  quite  over,  was  now  thor- 
oughly in  amazement.  He  had  never  quite  understood  the 
nature  of  the  proceeding  by  which  our  knight  had  first 
made  his  introduction;  and  when  Bayard  added  to  these 
words  the  threat,  that,  if  he  did  not  now  keep  his  word,  he 
certainly  should  make  his  escape  if  he  could,  and  hold  him 
personally  accountable  hereafter,  the  obtuse  islander  knew 
not  well  what  reply  to  make.  The  renown  of  Bayard  had 
reached  his  ears,  and  that  was  of  a  sort  to  make  him 
question  the  policy  of  risking  himself  in  a  conflict  with  one 
who  had  the  credit  of  being  such  a  thorough  master  of 
fence.  When  he  found  his  tongue,  he  answered,  very 
courteously,  that  he  was  desirous  of  dealing  fairly  with  the 
Lord  of  Bayard,  but  that  the  case  was  quite  a  new  one  to 


THE    KINGS    AND    THE    CAPTIVE.  333 

him,  and  must  refer  it  to  the  other  captains.  This  difficulty, 
for  the  first  time  brought  it  to  the  knowledge  of  the  camp 
that  the  famous  Chevalier  Bayard,  the  knight  sans  peur  et 
sans  reproche,  was  a  prisoner.  The  intelligence  was  pro- 
ductive of  as  much  delight  as  if  it  were  in  consequence  of 
a  great  victory.  He  was  sent  for  by  the  emperor,  who  had 
been  one  of  his  admirers  in  times  past,  when  he  served 
under  him  at  the  abortive  siege  of  Padua.  Maximilian  had 
not  forgotten  those  times.  "  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  it  gives 
me  great  pleasure  to  see  you.  Would  to  God  I  had  many 
such  as  you.  I  should  not  then  fail  in  requiting  the  good 
offices  of  the  king  your  master."  Then,  after  a  pause,  he 
said,  playfully,  "  I  believe,  my  Lord  of  Bayard,  we  once 
made  war  together.  Methinks  at  that  time  it  was  said 
that  Bayard  never  fled  in  battle." 

The  answer  of  our  knight  was  prompt — "  Were  I  given 
to  flying,  sire,  I  should  not  be  here  now." 

At  this  moment  the  King  of  England  made  his  appear- 
ance, who,  on  being  introduced  to  Bayard,  treated  him 
with  great  cordiality.  Henry  was  then  but  a  young  tyrant. 
His  claws  had  not  fully  grown.  He  vtbs  ambitious  of 
glory,  and  took  much  delight  in  the  graces  and  the  pomps 
of  knighthood.  The  fame  of  Bayard  was  quite  as  well 
known  to  him  as  to  Maximilian,  and  neither  of  them  was 
disposed  to  withhold  his  compliments  and  acknowledg- 
ments. But  this  did  not  prevent  them  from  making  merry 
at  the  recent  defeat  of  the  French  knights  at  Guinegatte — 
a  battle,  by  the  way,  which  received  the  curious  title  in 
history  of  that  of  "  the  spurs."  Heniy  spoke  very  scorn- 
fully of  the  spirit  which  they  displayed  in  this  affair, 
observing  that  he  had  never  seen  men  fly  so  nimbly  when 
chased  by  so  small  a  number.  The  emperor  seconded 
these  sentiments. 

"On  my  soul,"  replied  Bayard,  "the  gendannerie  of 
France  ought  in  no  wise  to  have  the  blame  of  this  affair 
ascribed  to  them,  for  they  had  express  orders  from  their 


334  THE    DECISION. 

captains  not  to  fight.  It  was  apprehended  that,  if  you 
offered  battle,  you  would  bring  your  whole  force  with  you, 
as  in  fact  you  did,  and  we  had  neither  infantry  nor  ord- 
nance." There  was  some  pride  in  the  spirit  in  which  he 
added,  "  That  the  renown  of  the  French  nobility  for  spirit 
and  conduct  was  known  throughout  the  world,  and  was  not 
now  to  be  disputed  successfully.  I  do  not  mean,  most 
high  and  mighty  lords,  that  you  should  account  me  of  their 
number." 

"  In  good  sooth,  my  Lord  of  Bayard,"  said  Henry,  "  if 
they  were  all  of  your  mettle,  they  would  soon  force  me  to 
raise  the  siege  of  Theroiienne.  It  is  well  for  us  that  you 
are  our  prisoner." 

"  Sire,"  replied  Bayard,  "  I  do  not  allow  that,  and  would 
gladly  appeal  on  the  subject  to  yourself  and  the  emperor." 

Upon  this,  the  gentleman  to  whom  he  had  yielded 
himself  was  summoned  to  the  presence,  and  Bayard,  in 
his  hearing,  made  a  statement  of  the  whole  transaction, 
the  other  fully  confirming  his  details.  The  question 
was  full  of  subtleties.  It  was  a  new  case  for  the  doctors 
learned  in  the  law.  The  two  royal  personages  looked 
at  each  other,  and  the  great  king,  who  could  argue  the 
case,  to  his  own  satisfaction,  at  least,  against  a  Luther,  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  quite  as  prompt  in  settling  this  of  our 
captain.  The  emperor  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 
He  declared  that,  in  his  opinion,  our  knight  was  not  the 
captive,  but  rather  the  captor.  But  he  conceived  that  the 
quid  'pro  quo  had  been  fully  rendered  by  the  gentleman 
whom  he  had  so  fortunately  caught  napping.  He  held  the 
parties  to  be  quits,  and  that  our  good  knight  should  be  al- 
lowed to  depart  whenever  the  King  of  England  thought 
proper.  This  was  considered  a  very  lucid  decision  by  that 
august  and  reasonable  personage,  who  was  liberal  enough 
to  determine  that  Bayard  should  remain  on  parole  for  the 
space  of  six  weeks,  not  bearing  arms  in  that  time,  but 
permitted  to  enjoy  himself  by  a  stroll  through  Flandera. 


BAYARD    IN    FLANDERS.  335 

Our  good  knight  seems  to  have  been  quite  satisfied  wdth 
the  arrangement.  It  is  probable  that  he  himself  was  not 
so  well  content  with  the  force  of  his  own  arguments 
against  captivity,  until  they  were  adopted  and  made  clear 
by  Maximilian.  He  thanked  the  two  sovereigns  for  their 
condescension  and  justice  !  Heniy  was  anxious  to  win 
him  over  to  his  service ;  and  many  offers  were  made  him, 
which  would  have  proved  too  persuasive  for  most  of  the 
knighthood  of  his  age  ;  but  his  heart  was  with  his  own 
land.  His  reply  to  these  solicitings  has  been  quoted,  as  a 
happy  instance  of  patriotic  sentiment — made  beautiful  by 
its  very  simplicity.  He  said,  finally,  to  those  who  sought 
him — "  I  have  but  one  Heavenly  Master,  who  is  God — but 
one  master  upon  earth,  who  is  the  King  of  France.  I 
have  no  wish  to  sei-ve  any  other."  His  reply,  in  that  day, 
declared  the  true  military  spirit  also,  and  was  the  just  re- 
buke to  the  loose  morals — to  say  nothing  of  patriotism — of 
an  age,  when  even  princes  were  prepared  to  hire  them- 
selves, and  sell  their  people,  to  do  the  battles  of  other 
nations.  He  never  forgot  the  lessons  of  duty  impressed 
upon  his  memory  by  the  counsels  of  his  father,  and  by  all 
the  training  of  his  youth. 

Bayard  used  his  six  weeks  profitably,  at  the  expense  of 
his  purse.  He  won  the  affections  of  his  enemies.  Ram- 
bling among  the  Hainaulters  and  Burgundians,  in  the  do- 
minions of  the  emperor,  he  was  always  surrounded  by 
brave  gentlemen,  whom  he  knew  how  to  feast  sumptuously. 
They  honored  his  fame — ^for  his  achievements  had  already 
grown  into  fame  ;  and  when  they  found  this  reputation  asso- 
ciated with  the  most  admirable  good-fellowship,  they  were 
unwilling  that  he  should  ever  leave  them.  But  he  lingered 
not  an  hour  beyond  that  to  which  he  had  been  pledged  by 
the  King  of  England.  At  the  expiration  of  this  time,  he 
returned  to  France,  escorted  by  a  numerous  attendance, 
until  within  three  leagues  of  the  French  territories.  Mean- 
while, Theroiienne  had  been  surrendered  to  the  besiegers, 


336  CLOSE    OP    THE    CAMPAIGN. 

the  garrison  having  yielded  to  famine  rather  than  the  sword, 
and  being  admitted  to  good  conditions.  The  contest  within, 
and  beneath,  its  walls,  was  discontinued  for  a  season.  Henry 
found  his  conquest  of  very  little  moment  to  the  grand  re- 
sult. He  had  harassed  the  realm  of  France ;  he  had 
gained  nothing  for  his  own.  His  measures  betrayed  a  total 
ignorance  of  the  art  of  war.  He  suffered  himself  to  be 
beguiled  by  Maximilian  into  laying  siege  to  Toumay — the 
conquest  of  which  would  accrue  rather  to  the  benefit  of  the 
grandson  of  the  emperor  than  to  the  English — when  he 
should  have  pressed  forward  to  the  very  gates  of  Paris ; 
where,  expecting  nothing  less,  Louis  had  caused  the  trades- 
men and  mechanics  of  the  city  to  be  mustered  into  service, 
and  uniformed  as  foot-soldiers.  Never  was  France  in  such 
great  peril,  and  never  so  completely  relieved  by  the  blunders 
of  its  enemies.  The  Swiss  had  penetrated  Burgundy  with 
a  formidable  army,  and  had  laid  siege  to  Dijon,  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  arms  of  Henry  and  Maximilian  were 
triumphant  in  Picardy.  They  were  met  by  the  veteran 
Tremouille,  governor  of  Burgundy,  who  seduced  them 
into  a  negotiation,  in  which  they  were  completely  out- 
witted. Touniay  was  conquered  by  the  English,  after  a 
short  delay;  and,  with  these  successes,  the  King  of  England 
returned  to  his  own  dominions,  and  the  emperor  to  Ger- 
many. And  thus  closed  the  campaign  of  the  year  1513, 
the  army  of  France  being  disbanded,  and  the  troops  posted 
in  ganison  along  the  frontiers  of  Picardy. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

The  close  of  the  life  of  Louis  XII.  was  clouded  with  mis- 
fortunes. We  have  already  seen  how  melancholy  were  the 
results  of  that  ambition  which  had  earned  frequent  annies 
for  destruction  to  the  seductive  plains  of  Italy.  We  have 
shown  how  narrowly,  at  the  close  of  this  campaign,  the 
territories  of  France  escaped  from  the  common  ravages  of 
the  English,  the  Germans,  and  the  Swiss — escaped  rather 
because  of  the  wretched  inexperience  and  inferior  judg- 
ment of  the  invaders,  than  in  consequence  of  the  resources 
of  the  French  monarch  to  contend  against  them.  Other 
events  accompanied  and  followed  these,  which  tended 
still  farther  to  distress  this  gi'eat  prince,  and  to  cloud  the 
sunshine  in  the  evening  of  his  life.  His  ally,  James,  king 
of  Scotland,  was  defeated  and  perished  on  the  fatal  field 
of  Flodden,  while  Louis  himself  was  stniggling  doubtfully 
against  the  English  on  his  own  territories.  The  close  of 
the  year  brought  home  the  remains  of  his  several  gari'isons 
in  Italy,  and,  at  the  opening  of  the  next,  death  seized  upon 
his  wife,  Anne,  duchess  of  Brittany  and  queen  of  France. 
This  princess  was  very  justly  lamented  by  her  nobility 
and  people.  She  died  young,  not  having  completed  her 
thirty-eighth  year.  She  was  meek  and  bountiful,  virtuous 
and  well  accomplished.  Her  pleasure  consisted  in  doing 
good.  Her  court  was  the  asylum  and  the  school  of  purity, 
so  much  so,  that  the  most  illustrious  families  of  France 
gladly  confided  their  daughters  to  her  keeping  as  maids 
of  honor.  She  was  the  widow  of  Charles  VIII.,  and  his- 
torians, contrasting  her  history,  while  his  wife,  and  as  the 
wife  of  Louis,  have  observed  a  great  discrepancy  in  her 

Ff 


338  THE    TOURNEY. 

character.  To  the  former  she  is  described  as  mild  and 
obUging,  and  Charles  frequently  sacrificed  her  to  his  pass- 
ing fancies.  To  Louis,  who  was  devoted  to  her  will,  she 
exhibited  a  more  imperious  humor;  to  characterize  the 
effects  of  which,  he  was  wont  to  call  her  "  his  Britoness." 
But  this  did  not  impair  her  virtues  or  his  recognition  of 
them.  His  attachment  was  justly  founded  upon  her  qual- 
ities of  mind  and  heart.  The  discrepancy  remarked  by 
the  historians,  who  do  not  often  condescend  to  analyze  the 
constituents  of  personal  character,  might  readily  be  recog- 
nized by  a  proper  examination  of  all  the  circumstances 
in  her  career  during  the  two  reigns.  Her  death  was  bit- 
terly felt  and  lamented,  but,  as  our  chronicler  phrases  it, 
**  whoso  would  have  her  virtues  and  her  life  worthily  set 
forth  must  pray  God  to  raise  up  Cicero  for  her  eulogist  in 
Latin,  and  Master  Jean  de  Meung  for  the  same  in  French, 
none  of  the  moderns  being  equal  to  such  performance."* 
But  a  royal  sorrow  is  not  long  suffered  to  interfere  with 
the  wishes  of  a  nobility  or  the  interests  of  a  kingdom ;  and 
before  the  expiration  of  the  year  we  find  the  Duke  de 
Longueville — who,  taken  with  Bayard  at  the  battle  of 
Guinegatte,  was  carried  a  prisoner  to  England — negotiating 
a  marriage  between  the  widowed  sovereign  of  France 
and  Mary,  the  sister  of  the  King  of  England.  She  was 
espoused  by  Louis  at  Abbeville.  The  nuptials  were  cele- 
brated at  Paris  by  rejoicings  the  most  magnificent.  For 
upward  of  six  weeks,  the  joust  and  tourney  took  the 
place  of  those  scenes  of  actual  warfare  which  they  were 
designed  to  prepare  for  and  to  imitate ;  and  in  these,  as  in 
the   latter,    we    find    Bayard,    Maugiron,    Chandieu,    and 

*  We  ask,  with  wonder,  after  the  works  of  a  modern  whom  we  find,  dur- 
ing an  age  which  could  appreciate  the  Latin  of  Cicero,  ranked  with  the 
mighty  master  of  Roman  eloquence.  Jean  de  Meung,  of  whom  we  know 
but  little,  was  also  named  Clopinel.  He  finished  the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose, 
which  had  been  begun,  in  verse,  fifty  years  before  by  Guillaume  de  Loris, 
and  afterward  turned  into  prose  and  augmented  with  many  allegories  by 
Jean  Molinet. 


FRANCIS    THE    FIRST.  339 

Others,  taking  the  field  successfully  against  all  competitors. 
But  these  pomps  and  festivities,  though  natural  enough  to 
the  celebration  of  a  bridal,  agreed  neither  with  the  phys- 
ical nor  the  political  condition  of  the  French  king.  He 
sickened  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  died  in  two  months 
after,  leaving  an  enfeebled  empire,  an  impoverished  peo- 
ple, and  many  dangerous  enemies,  to  his  successor.  But 
he  died  in  the  odor  of  popular  sanctity.  He  had  been  a 
protector  of  the  people,  upon  whom,  during  his  whole 
reign,  he  had  imposed  no  taxes.  He  had  been  the  first 
monarch  of  France  to  protect  the  peasantry  from  the  ra- 
pacity of  the  soldiery,  who  were  before  accustomed  to 
plunder  them  with  impunity.  Well  might  they  call  him 
the  "  Father  of  his  People  " — a  title  which  no  one  would 
have  been  found  to  question,  had  the  prosperity  with  which 
his  reign  had  opened  been  continued  to  its  close.  But  the 
fruitless  sacrifice  of  wealth  and  blood  in  Italy — the  san- 
guinary victories  which  brought  him  glory  at  the  expense 
of  more  substantial  possessions,  and  the  evil  consequences 
of  his  vain  ambition  for  conquest,  which  were  entailed 
upon  his  kingdom,  for  the  trouble  of  future  years — must 
necessarily  qualify,  in  some  degree,  the  honorable  title 
which  his  subjects  conferred  upon  his  name.  Louis  was 
but  fifty-six  yeare  old  when  he  died.  He  was  suc- 
ceeded by  Francis  I.,  who  was  but  twenty  wheti  he 
ascended  the  throne,  and  the  favorite  of  the  nobility,  as 
Louis  had  been  of  the  people.  Francis  had  but  just  es- 
poused the  Princess  Claude,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Louis, 
by  Anne  of  Brittany.  He  was  anointed  with  the  conse- 
crated oil  at  Rheims,  on  the  25th  January,  1514  ;  and  went 
from  Rheims  to  St.  Denis,  to  be  crowned.  A  magnificent 
entry  followed,  into  Paris  ;  the  twelve  peers  of  France,  or 
their  substitutes,  officiating  according  to  their  duties  in  the 
consecration,  the  crowning,  and  the  exhibitions  of  chivalry, 
by  which  the  gi*eat  event  was  celebrated.  Tilts  and  tour- 
neys succeeded,  as  a  matter  of  course.     Francis  was  a  mag- 


340  A    NEW   INVASION. 

nificent  king,  as  well  as  an  ambitious  one.  In  the  former 
respect  he  differed  largely  from  his  predecessor.  He  made 
a  progress  of  state  through  his  dominions,  which  was  every 
where  marked  by  the  most  extravagant  display.  We  shall 
not  adopt  the  details  of  the  chroniclers ;  nor  did  such 
triumphs  seriously  employ  his  mind.  Differing  greatly 
from  Louis  XII.,  he  yet  inherited  his  hungering  desire 
for  the  possession  of  the  duchy  of  Milan,  and  he  already 
meditated  the  preparations  for  its  conquest.  A  peace  had 
been  negotiated  with  England  ;  a  treaty  was  adjusted  with 
the  Archduke  of  Flanders,  who  was  betrothed  to  the  Princess 
Renee,  the  sister  of  Francis.  The  widow  of  Louis,  Mary 
of  England,  much  to  Henry's  disquiet,  became  the  wife 
of  Charles  Brandon,  duke  of  Suffolk ;  and,  while  the 
realm  of  France  exhibited  nothing  but  an  aspect  of  peace 
and  joyance,  the  aiTangements  were  in  progress  for  con- 
ducting her  chivalry  forth,  under  the  lead  of  their  sovereign 
himself,  once  more  in  pursuit  of  conquest  over  the  passes 
of  the  Alps. 

The  commencement  of  the  reign  of  Francis  brought  for- 
ward our  chevalier  upon  the  theatre  of  political  events.  One 
of  the  first  acts  of  the  new  king  was  to  make  him  lieutenant- 
general  of  his  native  province  of  Dauphiny — an  appoint- 
ment which  gave  quite  as  much  pleasure  to  the  people 
governed  as  it  gave  to  the  governor.  Here  he  recruited 
his  command,  and  awaited  the  preparations  and  the  ap- 
proaches of  the  king.  He  was  not  suffered  long  to  remain 
in  Dauphiny.  The  army  of  France  was  already  in  motion 
for  the  Milanese.  It  was  destined  to  defile  secretly  by  the 
Lyonese,  the  vanguard  being  led  by  our  hero.  With  his 
own  command,  with  some  three  or  four  thousand  foot- 
soldiers,  he  led  the  way  to  the  confines  of  Dauphiny. 
Here,  reaching  the  teiTitories  of  the  Marquis  de  Saluzzo — 
territories  now  held,  with  the  exception  of  one  strong 
castle,  by  Prospero  Colonna,  lieutenant-general  of  the 
Pope — Bayard    commenced    a   vigilant   inquiry   into   the 


BAYARD    IN    COMMAND.  341 

various  modes  by  which  he  could  expel  the  enemy.  Co- 
lonna  had  the  whole  country  subject  to  his  contributions, 
while  all  the  strong  places  were  held  by  his  Swiss  merce- 
naries. Bayard  soon  discovered,  by  his  spies,  that,  though 
in  common  soldiers  he  was  fully  equal  to  his  enemy,  he 
was  far  inferior  to  him  in  horse  ;  Cotonna  having  at  com- 
mand a  chosen  body  of  three  hundred  gens  d'arms,  to  say 
nothing  of  another  force  of  light-horse,  all  of  which  were 
admirably  equipped  and  mounted.  This  was  the  very  arm 
of  which  Bayard  was  the  acknowledged  master;  and,  feel- 
ing himself  deficient  in  this  respect,  he  immediately  sent 
despatches  to  the  king,  stating  his  deficiencies,  and  re- 
questing an  additional  force  of  cavalry,  in  order  to  effect 
his  objects.  In  compliance  with  this  demand,  the  three 
distinguished  captains,  La  Palisse,Humbercourt,  and  D'Au- 
bigny,  were  ordered  to  join  him  with  their  companies.  The 
first  of  these  was  a  marshal  of  France,  the  two  others 
general  officers  ;  all  of  them  superior  in  rank  and  length  of 
sei-vice,  yet  all  of  them  willing  to  fight  under  his  orders  ! 
Here,  then,  is  an  admirable  example  and  lesson  to  that 
wretched  self-esteem,  which  withdraws  its  strength  from 
the  support  of  its  country  when  its  dignity  is  supposed  to 
be  outraged.  These  brave  noblemen  had  no  repugnance 
to  serve  under  the  orders  of  the  younger  soldier.  We 
hear  of  no  sullenness — no  resignations — no  murmurs — 
no  complaints.  The  truly  patriotic  soldier  regards  the 
claim  of  his  country  as  the  gi'eat  consideration,  and  his 
own  as  secondary  wholly.  He  feels  no  jealousy  of  his 
more  youthful  captain ;  opposes  no  scruples — no  reluct- 
ance— to  a  service  which  is  always  honorable  if  the  cause 
be  so,  and  which,  where  the  duty  is  present,  never  regards 
the  agency  by  which  it  is  commissioned  to  be  done.  By 
the  time  that  these  three  captains  had  reached  the  post 
occupied  by  Bayard,  he  had  succeeded  in  gaining  such 
intelligence  of  the  movements  of  Prosper©  Colonna  as  to  be 
able  to  employ  them  in  immediate  service.     They  found 


342  ENTERPRISE. 

him  at  a  little  town  called  Savigliano,  in  the  plain  of  Pied* 
mont.  He  received  them  with  equal  courtesy  and  affec- 
tion ;  and,  after  they  were  sufficiently  refreshed,  addressed 
them  thus :  "  Gentlemen,  we  dare  not  loiter  here.  To 
delay  is  to  endanger  the  knowledge  of  our  enterprise  ; 
and,  if  once  suspected  by  Colonna,  it  must  fail.  He  will 
either  retire  or  summon  the  Swiss  to  his  succor,  of  whom 
there  is  a  goodly  number  at  Pignerol  and  Saluzzo.  We 
must  have  our  horses  well  fed  to-night,  and  be  prepared  to 
despatch  our  business  with  the  break  of  day.  A  deep 
water  lies  between  us  and  our  prey ;  but  there  is  a  ford, 
and  I  will  find  you  a  guide."  They  were  all  mounted  a 
few  hours  after  midnight,  silently,  and  while  the  stars  were 
shining.  Colonna  was  within  Carmagnola.  His  spies 
brought  him  news  that  the  French  were  out;  but,  ignorant 
of  the  reinforcement  that  Bayard  had  just  received,  he  felt 
no  apprehension.  Still  he  thought  it  but  prudent  to  take 
his  departure  the  next  morning,  pursuing  his  way  very 
leisurely  toward  the  little  town  of  Villafranca,  seven  or 
eight  miles  distant,  where  he  prepared  to  dine.  Our  cap- 
tains were  greatly  disquieted  when  they  reached  Car- 
magnola and  found  that  the  bird  had  flown. 

But  Bayard  determined  to  pursue.  "  Since  we  have 
come  so  far,"  said  he,  "we  may  go  a  little  farther.  We 
shall  hardly  fail  to  gather  some  of  them,  let  us  find  them 
where  we  may." 

"  Perdy,"  said  Humbercourt,  "  never  man  spoke  bet- 
ter." 

La  Palisse  and  D'Aubigny  were  ready,  and  the  Lord  ot 
Morete  was  sent  forward  in  disguise  to  gain  intelligence. 
He  made  good  speed  and  soon  brought  them  tidings  that 
Colonna  would  dine  and  take  his  siesta  at  Villafranca. 
This  information  gave  our  captains  a  fresh  impulse  for  puj* 
suit.  Our  good  knight  sent  Humbercourt  forward  with  an 
hundred  archers,  he  following  at  longbow-shot  with  his 
hundred  gens   d'arms,  while   La  Palisse  and   D'Aubigny 


THE    BURPRISE.  343 

brought  up  the  rear.  Colonna  was  not  without  good  spies 
also.  He  was  on  his  way  to  mass  in  Villafranca,  when  told 
that  the  French  were  abroad  in  force.  He  answered  indif- 
ferently that  "  such  could  not  be  the  case,  unless  they  had 
crossed  the  mountains  with  wings — that  it  could  be  no  oth- 
er than  the  company  of  Captain  Bayard,  which  was  too 
small  for  any  enterprise.'*  But,  as  he  returned  from  mass, 
the  report  became  more  circumstantial.  One  of  his  spies 
assured  him  that  he  himself  had  seen  more  than  a  thousand 
gens  d'arms  pressing  on  the  route  to  Villafi'anca.  Colonna 
was  now  alarmed,  and  sent  out  twenty  horse  to  reconnoitre 
the  road  to  Carmagnola.  Meanwhile,  he  hurried  his  quar- 
termaster, bade  his  trumpets  sound,  and  made  his  arrange- 
ments to  seek  his  lodgings  at  Pignerol.  He  lingered  un- 
wisely to  discuss  his  dinner.  The  scouts,  whom  he  had 
sent  out  on  the  road  to  Carmagnola,  were  encountered  by 
Humbercourt  with  his  archers,  dispersed  and  pursued,  Bay- 
ard closely  following,  with  his  gens  d'arms,  on  the  heels  of 
his  archers.  The  chase  was  so  hotly  urged  that  the  two 
parties  reached  the  gates  of  Villafranca  together,  and  a 
conflict  ensued  at  the  entrance,  in  the  endeavor  to  close  it 
upon  the  pursuers.  The  anival  of  Bayard  put  an  end  to 
this  struggle.  The  gate  was  won,  and  the  French  dashed 
through  it.  Here  they  found  the  quartermaster  of  Colonna 
already  mounted,  with  some  of  his  gens  d'arms,  preparing 
to  set  forth  for  Pignerol.  These  put  themselves  on  the  de- 
fensive, but  were  soon  cut  to  pieces.  Meanwhile,  Chaban- 
nes  and  D'Aubigny  coming  up,  occupied  the  two  gates  of 
the  place,  but  not  before  a  couple  of  Albanians  had  succeed- 
ed in  crossing  the  drawbridge  and  running,  as  though  the 
foul  fiend  were  at  their  heels,  to  communicate  the  tidino-s 
to  a  column  of  some  four  thousand  Swiss  who  were  station- 
ed only  three  miles  distant.  Colonna,  meanwhile,  apprised 
of  his  danger,  hastily  buckled  on  his  armor  and  prepared 
for  his  defence ;  but  when  he  heard  by  what  force  he  was 
surrounded,  and  by  what  captains  it  was  conducted,  he 


344  PROSPERO    COLONNA. 

yielded,  under  the  most  poignant  anguish,  to  his  misfor- 
tune. He  could  not  hide  his  mortification  from  his  enemies; 
**  but,  cursing  his  fate,  that  he  should  have  been  thus  sur- 
prised, he  deplored  that  God  should  not  rather  have  suffer- 
ed him  to  meet  his  foes  upon  the  open  field."  Bayard  kind- 
ly endeavored  to  console  him,  saying,  **  Such  is  the  fortune 
of  war,  my  Lord  Prospero,  which  he  who  enters  upon  the 
game  must  expect  to  incur — winning  one  day  to  lose  the 
next.  But,  as  for  your  wish  to  have  met  us  in  the  open 
field,  I  can  safely  aver  that  it  is  much  better  for  you  as  it  is ; 
for  such  was  the  fury  and  appetite  of  our  men  for  the  com- 
bat, that,  in  such  an  event,  it  would  not  have  been  an  easy 
matter  for  you  or  any  of  your  people  to  escape." 

**  I  should  have  been  right  glad,"  was  the  answer,  "  to 
have  confronted  even  so  much  peril,  had  it  been  the  Lord's 
pleasure." 

The  peculiar  awkwardness  of  this  aff'air  to  Colonna  arose 
from  one  of  his  own  incautious  speeches.  He  had  threat- 
ened, while  Bayard  as  yet  had  no  more  than  his  hundred 
gens  d'arms,  that  he  should  soon  or  late  have  the  good  knight 
in  his  trap,  as  a  pigeon  in  his  cage.  Bayard,  no  doubt,  had 
heard  of  this  boast,  but  he  was  too  generous  to  taunt  his 
captive  with  it. 

The  booty  of  this  conquest  was  immense.  The  prisoners 
were  many  of  them  men  of  distinction,  and  they  had  ransoms 
to  pay.  There  were,  besides  Prospero  Colonna  himself, 
the  Count  of  Policastro,  Pi^ro  Morgante,  Carlo  Cadamarto, 
and  other  persons  of  military  rank  and  importance.  Six 
or  seven  hundred  horses  were  among  the  spoils,  four  hun- 
dred of  which  were  coursers,  or  Spanish  horses,  at  that 
time  of  great  value.  Colonna  was  afterward  heard  to  say 
that  his  defeat  on  that  occasion  cost  him  no  less  than  fifty 
thousand  crowns  in  gold  and  silver  plate,  coin,  and  other 
chattels.  The  treasure  gained  by  the  captors  was  estima- 
ted at  an  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  ducats.  The  neces- 
sity of  a  precipitate  retreat  lost  them  much  more  which 


FRANCIS    CROSSES    THE    ALPS.  345 

was  otherwise  available.  They  were  soon  apprised  that 
the  Swiss  infantry,  in  the  Italian  service,  were  pressing  for- 
ward, at  full  trot,  for  the  rescue  of  the  place  and  captives. 
Selecting,  therefore,  the  most  valuable  of  the  spoils,  and 
placing  their  prisoners  before  them,  they  went  forth  at  one 
gate  of  the  town,  while  the  Swiss  penetrated  the  other. 
But  the  command  of  Bayard,  with  their  prisoners,  being 
all  mounted,  laughed  at  the  proximity  of  their  enemies, 
which  was  devoid  of  danger.  Francis  I.  was  even  then 
crossing  the  Alps  by  a  passage  known  only  to  a  peasant, 
and  by  which  no  army  had  ever  crossed  before.  The 
usual  avenues  were  by  Mont  Cenis  and  Mont  Genievre, 
and  these  were  occupied  and  guarded  by  the  Swiss.  The 
news  of  the  capture  of  Colonna  was  as  exhilarating  to  the 
young  monarch  as  was  the  mountain  of  St.  Paul,  whose 
summits  he  then  occupied.  It  was  auspicious,  he  might 
well  regard  it,  of  the  future.  It  encouraged  him  to  press 
forward  with  all  diligence,  and  the  army  of  France  was 
in  Piedmont  and  at  Turin,  while  the  Swiss  awaited  them 
at  the  ancient  passes. 

p* 


>A.^W^W^?^ 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


The  army  wliich  Francis  I.  led  into  Italy  was  one  of  the 
finest  that  France  had  ever  sent  into  the  field.  It  consisted 
of  two  thousand  five  hundred  raen-at-arms — a  force  which, 
fully  equipped,  implied  some  fourteen  or  fifteen  thousand 
horse.  Besides  these,  he  had,  of  mounted  troops,  the  gentle- 
men of  his  body-guard,  the  officers  of  the  household  and 
their  several  followers,  with  a  considerable  number  of  vol- 
unteers, who  joined  the  army  at  their  own  charges.  His 
infantry  was  composed  of  two-and-twenty  thousand  Ger- 
man lansquenets,  eight  thousand  French  pikes,  and  six 
thousand  Basques  and  Gascons,  with  three  thousand  pio- 
neers, and  a  numerous  train  of  artillery.  The  vanguard 
was  confided  to  the  Constable  de  Bourbon  ;  the  "  battle" 
was  commanded  by  the  king  himself;  the  rearguard  was 
led  by  the  Duke  d'AlenQon.  The  dukes  of  Lorraine  and 
Vendome,  D'Aubigny,  the  Bastard  of  Savoy,  D'Orval,  La 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FRENCH.  347 

Tremouille,  Lautrec,  the  Duke  of  Gueldres  (who  had  the 
chief  command  of  the  German  foot),  Claude  de  Guise, 
brother  of  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  with  the  "  Good  Knight," 
Bayard,  accompanied  the  king.  Francis  had  raised  this 
powerful  army  by  the  sale  of  judicial  offices  and  other  un- 
justifiable means.  He  gained  Genoa  by  the  intrigues  of 
the  Constable  de  Bourbon ;  confimied  a  foiTner  alliance  with 
the  Venetians,  and  made  an  offer  to  treat  with  Ferdinand 
and  Maximilian ;  not  so  much  with  the  hope  of  engaging 
their  amity  as  with  the  wish  to  compel  them  to  declare 
themselves.  But  his  overtures,  as  he  anticipated,  were 
fruitless  in  both  instances.  The  Pope,  filled  with  selfish 
pui-poses  himself,  for  the  promotion  of  his  own  family,  and 
having  no  apprehensions  of  so  young  a  prince  as  Francis, 
would  have  remained  neutral,  but  was  finally  compelled 
to  accede  to  the  league  against  him,  formed  by  the  emperor, 
the  King  of  Spain,  the  Duke  of  Milan,  and  the  Swiss — but 
this  was  only  after  subsequent  events  had  made  him  alter 
his  opinion  of  the  new  French  monarch.  Thus,  with  a 
clear  knowledge  of  friends  and  foes,  and  with  seemingly 
ample  resources,  Francis  I.  made  his  way  into  the  bosom 
of  Piedmont. 

The  Swiss  were  veiy  much  mortified  that  the  French 
had  escaped  them.  It  seemed  as  if  they  felt  that  some  dis- 
grace had  fallen  upon  their  arms,  and  they  longed  for  an 
opportunity  not  only  to  punish  the  latter  for  the  contempt 
which  they  had  shown  for  their  ancient  allies,  but  to  grap- 
ple with  the  Black  Bands  and  the  lansquenets,  whom  they 
regarded  as  rivals  in  the  trade  of  blood.  They  withdrew 
from  the  passes  which  they  had  unnecessarily  guarded,  and 
retired  into  the  Milanese,  plundering  whom  they  could, 
without  regard  to  the  interests  of  friends  or  foes.  The 
progi'ess  of  Francis  increased  their  vexations.  Received 
honorably  and  joyfully  in  Turin  by  his  uncle,  the  Duke  of 
Savoy,  he  passed  through  several  places  which  yielded  to 
his  arms  without  the  offer  of  opposition.    Novara,  the  scene 


348  THE    SWISS. 

of  that  terrible  defeat,  which  every  soldier  of  the  French 
army  regarded  as  a  personal  disgrace,  yielded  the  keys  of 
her  citadel.  It  was  at  Marignan  that  Francis  made  a 
pause,  pitched  his  camp,  and  opened  a  negotiation  with  the 
Swiss.  This  proceeding  was  adopted  at  the  suggestion  of 
the  Duke  of  Savoy,  who  believed  that  every  thing  could  be 
done  with  the  Swiss  by  means  of  money,  and  who  properly 
sought  to  prevent  the  effusion  of  blood.  Had  Francis 
determined  rather  upon  fighting  them,  he  would  probably 
have  gained  all  that  he  could  have  done  by  treaty.  Their 
teiTiis  were  sufficiently  extravagant,  but  the  desire  to  disarm 
them  was  such  as  reconciled  the  young  and  chivalrous 
monarch  of  the  French  to  the  conditions.  But  they  were 
not  suffered  to  conclude  the  treaty.  The  influence  of  the 
Cardinal  de  Sion,  always  the  bitter  enemy  of  the  French, 
his  specious  eloquence,  and  adroit  counsels,  prevented  its 
ratification.  Sounding  the  tambourine,  he  gathered  the 
simple  but  mercenary  mountaineers  around  him,  and 
preached  to  them  as  a  fox  does  to  the  chickens.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  provoking  their  hatred  and  their  cupidity  to- 
gether. The  negotiation  itself  had  given  them  great  ad- 
vantages ;  for  while  it  was  in  progress  their  numbers  were 
increased  by  the  arrival  of  Rost,  one  of  their  gi'eatest 
warriors,  with  twenty-five  thousand  men.  This  reinforce- 
ment, with  the  exciting  arguments  of  the  Cardinal  de  Sion, 
determined  them  to  reject  the  treaty,  and  to  resume  hostili- 
ties. A  spy  of  Lautrec,  in  the  camp  of  the  Swiss,  conveyed 
to  the  French  a  knowledge  of  a  treachery  which  they  had 
determined  upon,  by  which  they  were  to  slaughter  their 
enemies,  yet  realize  most  of  the  advantages  of  the  treaty. 
This  put  the  latter  upon  their  guard ;  and  Francis  was  now 
quite  as  willing  to  come  to  an  engagement  as  before  he 
had  been  anxious  to  avoid  it. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  day,  on  the  13th  of  Septem- 
ber, 1515,  when,  tenibly  excited  by  the  arguments  of  their 
leaders,  the  Swiss,  with  more  than  their  usual  impetuosity, 


THE  BATTLE.  349 

but  Still  in  perfectly  good  order,  rushed  out  of  Milan  to  en- 
counter the  French  army  on  the  plains  of  Marignan.  Fran- 
cis was  about  to  sit  down  to  supper,  when  Fleuranges  gal- 
loped in  with  a  message  from  the  Constable  de  Bourbon, 
who  commanded  the  vanguard,  that  the  enemy  was  upon 
them.  The  king  immediately  hurried  on  his  armor,  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  his  division,  and  hastened  to  the 
field.  The  skiraiishing  had  already  begun,  and  with  great 
spirit,  between  the  opposing  armies.  The  constable  had 
committed  the  guard  of  the  artillery  to  the  lansquenets,  not 
only  because  they  were  good  soldiers,  but  because  he  well 
knew  that  the  hatred  existing  between  themselves  and  the 
Swiss  would  make  them  fight  with  more  desperation  than 
opposed  to  any  other  foe.  In  the  front  of  the  guns  a  fosse 
had  been  dug  to  increase  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  an 
assault  upon  the  artillery;  the  loss  of  which,  at  Novara,  had 
been  the  loss  of  the  battle.  Remembering  that  event,  and 
the  success  which  had  attended  their  efforts  against  this 
arm  of  their  enemy,  the  Swiss  naturally  directed  their 
greatest  energies  to  a  repetition  of  the  like  performance. 
The  French  cavalry  were  so  placed  as  to  act  upon  the 
flanks.  The  Swiss,  meanwhile,  came  on  with  perfect 
silence  and  in  great  steadiness.  As  if  disdaining  any  other 
martial  influence  than  that  of  hatred,  they  had  left  behind 
them  their  drums  and  fifes,  bringing  no  other  music  into  the 
field  than  the  ancient  horn,  with  which  their  primitive  ances- 
tors had  been  wont  to  call  up  equally  their  flocks  and  their 
foes.  The  artillery  of  the  French  opened  upon  them  with 
a  destructive  fire,  which  they  bore  with  unflinching  firm- 
ness ;  and  still  they  advanced  upon  the  guns  in  most  admi- 
rable order.  Bourbon  immediately  discovered  the  game 
they  were  disposed  to  play,  and  saw  that  they  were  about 
to  attempt  the  desperate  manoeuvre  of  Novara,  seizing  the 
ordnance  and  turning  it  upon  its  owners.  He  accordingly 
marched  out  some  companies  of  lansquenets  to  the  support 
of  the  artillery.     Upon  these,  without  seeming  to  regard 


350  CHARGE    OF    THE    SWISS. 

the  French  cavalry,  the  Swiss  darted  with  all  the  fury  of  a 
hatred  that  seemed  to  take  the  form  of  insanity.  The 
Germans,  it  appears,  had  conceived  a  most  unfortunate 
suspicion  that  the  treaty  between  their  employers  and  the 
Swiss  had  been  completed,  and  that  they  were  to  be  sacri- 
ficed to  their  implacable  enemies.  The  attack,  thus  seem- 
ingly made  upon  themselves  alone,  contributed  to  increase 
their  suspicions.  They  gave  ground  in  dismay,  and,  re- 
treating behind  the  fosse,  suffered  the  Swiss  to  enter  with 
them,  and  actually  to  get  possession  of  four  of  the  guns. 
The  constable  saw  his  danger,  and  the  fatal  consequences 
which  would  ensue,  if  it  was  not  promptly  and  adequately 
encountered.  Accordingly,  giving  the  signal  to  the  gens 
d'arms,  they  charged  the  Sv^iss  in  flank  with  great  eifect. 
Bayard  was  one  of  the  leaders  in  this  onslaught,  fighting, 
wherever  the  necessity  was  most  urgent,  and  always  with 
success.  In  the  mean  time  Francis  himself  came  up  with  the 
Black  Bands,  and  made  a  vigorous  assault  upon  the  oppo- 
site flank  of  the  enemy.  These  occurrences  were  sufficient 
to  disarm  the  Germans  of  their  fears  and  suspicions.  They 
recovered  their  courage,  and  attempted  to  regain  their 
former  position.  The  Swiss  were  finally  driven  beyond  the 
fosse,  and  the  guns  once  more  permitted  to  open  upon  their 
columns.  They  were  shaken,  but  not  dispirited,  and 
though  certainly  they  had  lost  by  the  first  assault,  this  event 
was  not  important  to  the  final  issue.  They  presented  still 
an  aspect  the  most  formidable ;  their  close  ranks,  fi'om 
which  tho  long  pikes  projected,  seeming  impregnable,  and 
challenging  attack.  The  Constable  de  Bourbon,  at  the  head 
of  the  cavalry  of  France,  charged  them  repeatedly  without 
being  able  to  disorder  or  break  their  an-ay.  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  chief  leaders,  furious  from  disappointment,  returned 
again  and  again,  until  almost  exhausted,  to  the  assault. 
The  Swiss,  baffled  in  their  own  first  attempt  upon  the  guns 
of  the  French,  had  been  taught  prudence  iu  their  rage,  and 
were  now  prepared  to  see  tflUt  nothing  but  the  most  per- 


NIGHT    COMBAT.  351 

feet  steadiness  and  coolness  could  ensure  them  either  victoiy 
or  safety.  They  beheld  unmoved  the  fierce  onset  of  their 
chivalrous  assailants,  their  long  pikes  bristling  out  at  their 
approach  in  a  levelled  line,  as  evenly  and  closely  as  the 
antennae  of  some  mighty  animal  that  instinctively  protrude 
for  its  defence  at  the  coming  of  the  foe.  At  length,  sound- 
ing a  fierce  and  final  assault  of  his  cavalry,  the  French  king 
himself  advanced  with  two  hundred  of  his  gendarms,  charg- 
ing one  of  the  wings  of  the  Swiss,  consisting  of  a  battalion 
of  four  thousand  fuot.  With  this  division  came  Bayard, 
and  other  of  the  best  captains  of  France.  The  manoeuvre 
was  executed  with  so  much  spirit  and  force,  and  so  oppor- 
tunely, that  the  division  was  wholly  routed.  The  gendarms 
penetrated  the  mass  on  every  hand,  and  it  was  only  by 
casting  down  their  pikes  and  crying  "France!"  that  the 
battalion  escaped  destruction. 

But  this  decisive  success  did  not  necessarily  detennine 
the  conflict.  Night  came  on,  and  she  sees  no  cowardice. 
The  battle  raged  as  furiously  as  before.  The  uniforms  of 
the  French  and  Swiss  were  veiy  much  alike — each  of 
them  bore  a  white  cross ;  the  Swiss  being  farther  dis- 
tinguished by  canying,  as  a  badge  of  the  Pope  of  Rome, 
the  keys  of  St,  Peter.  The  dust  which  had  been  raised 
by  the  storm  of  the  conflict  rendered  the  twilight  still 
more  obscure,  and,  for  a  time,  the  fight  was  discontinued 
from  the  absolute  impossibility  of  distinguishing  friends 
fi'om  enemies.  But  when  the  moon  rose,  she  afforded 
sufficient  light  for  combatants  resolved  on  slaughter. 
The  Swiss,  having  no  cavalry,  could  always  find  a  foe 
in  the  gens  d'arms.  These,  however,  could  not  always 
distinguish  their  own  people.  This  difficulty  nearly 
lost  Francis  his  life ;  for,  uttering  the  word  "  France" 
before  a  body  of  foot,  supposing  them  to  be  lansquenets, 
he  called  up  a  host  of  pikes  to  his  breast,  one  of  which 
penetrated  his  buff  coat.  A  timely  recoil  from  the  point  of 
danger  alone  saved  him.      With  the  renewal  of  the  con- 


352  INTERREGNUM    OP    BATTLE. 

flict,  the  Swiss  once  more  turned  their  assaults  upon 
the  French  artillery.  Upon  this  point  they  concentrated 
all  their  power,  and  here  the  battle  raged  with  its  utmost 
intensity.  To  this  central  object  necessarily  drew  nigh  all 
the  great  hearts  of  either  army.  La  Tremouille,  who 
had  determined  that  no  second  Novara  should  dishonor 
the  arms  of  France,  and  his  son,  the  Prince  de  Talmond, 
never  stirred  from  this  perilous  post.  Here,  too,  was 
Bayard  to  be  found,  always  foremost  where  the  danger 
was  most  imminent,  and  always  making  his  way  triumph- 
antly wherever  his  sword  descended.  Terribly  earnest 
was  the  fight — without  cessation  or  positive  result — till  the 
going  down  of  the  moon,  a  little  after  midnight,  left  the 
combatants  in  utter  darkness  ;  and,  knowing  not  where  to 
strike,  the  parties,  with  a  ferocity  still  unassuaged,  but 
with  limbs  enfeebled  and  exhausted,  threw  themselves 
down  upon  the  field,  even  where  the  fight  had  found  them, 
to  snatch  a  little  rest,  if  not  repose,  until  the  daw^n  of 
another  day  should  arouse  them  once  more  to  their  toils  of 
blood.  There  they  lay,  side  by  side — the  Swiss,  the  French, 
the  German  and  Italian — not  daring  to  move,  or  raise  a 
ci*y,  lest  it  should  rouse  a  foeman  rather  than  a  friend, 
and  direct  him  where  to  seek  his  victim.  Such  a  condition 
of  things  in  battle  was  probably  never  seen  before.  Fran- 
cis himself  endured  this  very  peril.  Surrounded  by  some 
of  the  nobles  who  had  kept  close  all  day  to  his  person,  he 
laid  himself  down  upon  the  carriage  of  a  gun.  Greatly 
exhausted  by  his  fatigues,  bruised  by  numerous  blows, 
and  slightly  wounded  by  a  pike-thrust,  he  needed  and 
enjoyed  the  rest  of  that  field  of  blood  and  danger  as  greatly 
as  any  of  his  subjects.  Here  he  asked  for  some  water. 
It  was  brought  him  in  a  morion,  but  so  mingled  with  blood 
that  his  sickening  stomach  revolted  as  he  earned  it  to  his 
lips.  At  this  moment  it  was  discovered  that  the  place 
where  he  lay  was  within  fifty  steps  of  the  main  body  of 
the  Swiss.     But  it  wna  more  perilous  to  attempt  to  retreat 


BAYARD  S    ADVENTURE.  353 

than  to  remain  where  he  was.  The  torch,  whose  light  had 
led  them  to  this  discovery,  was  instantly  extinguished,  and 
the  rest  of  the  night  was  passed  in  doubt  and  darkness. 
Meanwhile,  Bayard  had  passed  through  an  adventure 
equally  strange  and  perilous.  At  the  close  of  the  last 
attack  which  he  made  upon  the  Swiss,  in  defence  of  the 
cannon,  he  was  mounted  on  a  mettled  courser,  being  the 
second  which  he  had  crossed  during  the  combat,  the  first 
being  killed  at  the  very  opening  of  the  action.  While 
closely  surrounded  by  pikes,  and  hewing  his  way  among 
them,  the  biidle  of  his  horse  was  rent  away  from  the  head 
of  the  animal,  probably  by  the  interposition  of  their  points, 
or,  possibly,  severed  by  the  sharp  edge  of  a  weapon.  The 
horse,  utterly  freed  from  all  restraint,  and  terrified  with  the 
conflict,  darted  headlong  through  the  Swdss  as  he  never 
would  have  done  under  any  guidance,  and,  passing  one  of 
their  bands,  would  have  carried  our  knight  as  recklessly 
into  the  bosom  of  another,  had  not  his  career  been  arrested 
by  some  vine-stocks  in  the  field,  which  were  fastened  from 
tree  to  tree.  Bayard,  cool  and  observant,  in  the  midst  of 
his  danger,  well  knowing  that  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
Swiss  was  certain  death,  quietly  glided  from  the  back  of 
the  trembling  animal,  threw  off' helmet  and  tasses,  and  stole 
along,  following  the  fosse,  and  guided  by  the  occasional 
shouts  of  "  France,"  which  told  him  where  to  look  for 
fiiends.  He  reached  the  camp  in  safety,  where  the  first 
person  he  met  was  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  utterly  amazed 
at  seeing  him  in  this  condition,  and  on  foot.  The  duke 
immediately  provided  him  with  a  horse,  one  of  remarkable 
character,  which  Bayard  himself  had  won  at  the  battle  of 
Brescia,  and  which  he  had  left  for  dead  at  the  battle  of 
Ravenna,  with  two  pike  wounds  in  his  flanks,  and  more 
than  twenty  sword-cuts  on  his  head.  It"  was  taken  for 
granted,  when  the  beast  fell,  that  he  was  mortally  hurt.  But 
the  day  after  the  battle  he  was  found  on  his  legs  grazing; 
.g,nd  began  to  whinny,  in  joyful  recognition,  at  the  approach 


354  RENEWAL  OF  THE  COMBAT. 

of  his  friends.  He  was  brought,  in  consequence,  to  Bay- 
ard's lodging,  and  there  tended  carefully  till  healed.  Such 
was  his  almost  human  sagacity,  that  he  quietly  submitted 
to  the  dressing  of  his  wounds  ;  but  ever  after,  it  is  stated, 
whenever  a  sword  was  flourished  before  his  eyes,  he  would 
strive,  with  the  most  decided  expression  of  ferocity,  to 
seize  it  with  his  teeth.  The  statement  is  no  ways  incredi- 
ble. Horses  have  been  known  to  exhibit  a  like  antipathy 
to  men.  "  Was  never  seen,"  says  our  "Loyal  Sei-vant,"  "  a 
more  courageous  beast  since  the  days  of  Bucephalus." 
He  was  called  Le  Carman.  This  famous  steed,  which 
Bayard  had  formerly  presented  to  the  Duke  of  Lorraine, 
was  graciously  bestowed  upon  him  again.  Rejoiced  at 
being  so  well  mounted,  he  began  to  feel  another  want, 
which  was  not  so  easily  supplied,  that  of  a  helmet.  To  go 
bare-headed  into  another  brisk  action  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. He  proceeded,  accordingly,  to  supply  himself  by  a 
ruse,  which  had  its  excuse  at  that  moment.  Observing  th€ 
helmet  of  one  of  his  friends  in  the  hands  of  a  page,  he 
said  to  the  former — "  Let  me  have  your  head-piece  while 
you  rest  from  it.  I  am  afraid  of  catching  cold,  having 
been  so  profusely  sweated."  The  innocent  gentleman 
consented,  never  doubting  that  it  would  be  restored  to  him 
before  the  time  when  he  should  need  it.  But  as  Bayard 
had  no  intention  to  forego  the  battle  of  the  next  morning,  so 
he  had  no  idea  of  restoring  the  head-piece.  He  found  the 
fit  a  good  one,  and  it  continued  to  please  him  till  the  close 
of  the  battle,  which  lasted  till  noon  the  next  day. 

With  the  first  flushes  of  the  dawn  the  combatants  were 
once  more  astir,  both  parties  being  equally  soon  in  order. 
The  battle  was  renewed  by  another  attempt  of  the  Swiss  to 
possess  themselves  of  the  artillery.  In  this  attempt  they 
performed  prodigies  of  valor.  The  lansquenets  and  Black 
Bands  finally  yielded  before  their  impetuous,  self-sacrificing 
fury,  and  were  driven  back.  But  the  well-directed  fire  o£ 
the  guns,  served  by  Galiot  de  Genouillac,  opened  their  ad- 


THE    VICTORY.  355 

vancing  ranks  in  so  destructive  a  manner,  that  the  gen- 
darms  were  enabled  to  pour  into  the  several  gaps,  and  to 
make  terrible  havoc  in  the  heart  of  their  several  squares  and 
columns.  The  tide  of  battle  was  settling  decidedly  against 
them,  but  the  valor  of  the  Swiss  was  not  to  be  quenched, 
even  in  their  own  blood.  They  fought  on  with  desperate 
energy,  and,  finding  it  impossible  to  break  through  their 
enemies  in  front,  they  detached  a  part  of  their  force,  with 
instnictions  to  make  a  certain  circuit,  and  to  fall  upon  the 
rear  of  the  French.  The  manoeuvre  was  well  performed, 
but  was  not  successful.  The  detachment  encountered  the 
troops  of  the  Duke  d'Alencon,  which  had  not  hitherto 
been  engaged,  and  these,  reinforced  by  the  bowmen  of  Ar- 
mand  de  Prie,  gave  them  so  warm  a  reception,  as  totally 
to  rout  and  drive  them  back.  The  vital  struggle  was  now 
over.  The  victory  was  with  the  French.  The  Swiss  re- 
tired from  the  field,  still  in  good  order,  and  still  showing 
their  teeth,  but  leaving  fifi;een  thousand  of  their  best  troops 
on  the  field  of  battle.  The  Fi'ench  also  paid  heavily  for 
their  triumph ;  above  six  thousand  of  their  force  perished, 
among  whom  were  several  distinguished  victims — Francis 
de  Bourbon,  brother  of  the  constable  ;  Bertrand  de  Bour- 
bon Carenci;  the  Prince  de  Talmond ;  Pierre  de  Gouffler 
Boisy,  and  the  gallant  Humbercourt.  The  king  was  fre- 
quently in  gi'eat  peril,  and  more  than  once  owed  his  safety 
to  a  select  body  of  his  gendarms.  A  battle  more  stub- 
bornly contested  has  seldom  been  witnessed.  Two  days 
and  a  night  were  consumed  in  almost  uninterrupted  con- 
flict. Trivulzio  called  it  a  fight  of  giants  ;  and  said  that 
all  the  battles  which  he  had  ever  witnessed  were  mere 
children's  play,  when  compared  with  it.  It  was  the  first 
battle  of  a  youthful  monarch,  and  it  made  him  famous  as  a 
wanior. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

The  Swiss  dispersed  as  soon  as  they  lost  sight  of  the  field 
of  battle.  The  French  did  not  offer  to  pursue  them,  aware 
of  the  policy  which  should  forbear  unnecessarily  to  goad  to 
desperation  the  still  powerful  foe.  Francis  had  yet  another 
policy.  He  did  not  care  to  continue  the  quarrel  with  the 
Swiss,  which  he  had  inherited  from  his  predecessor.  They 
might  be  useful  to  him  yet,  and  this  was  the  suggestion  of 
Bayard.  They  were  left  free,  accordingly,  to  retire  to  their 
mountain  fastnesses.  Many  of  them  did  so ;  some  went  to 
Milan,  and  all  but  tw^o  companies  escaped.  These,  less 
prudent,  or  more  reckless,  took  up  their  quarters  at  a  little 
village  but  a  short  distance  from  the  field  of  battle.  Hither 
they  were  followed  by  the  advance  guard  of  the  French, 
by  whom  they  were  summoned  to  surrender.  They  an- 
swered, with  a  ferocity  heightened  by  the  bittemes  of  de- 
feat and  despair,  that  their  enemies  should  by  this  time  have 
been  taught  that  the  Swiss  knew  how  to  die,  but  not  to  sur- 
render. A  conflict  ensued  which  justified,  on  the  part  of 
the  vanquished  the  resolute  defiance  of  this  answer.  They 
were  not  to  be  overcome — they  might  be  destroyed.  The 
strife  was  not  one  in  which  humanity  could  be  heard. 
The  parties  were  quite  too  much  embittered  against  each 
other  to  suffer  any  interposition  of  mercy.  The  town  was 
fired  over  the  heads  of  the  defenders,  and  they  perished  to 
a  man  in  the  conflagration  or  the  fight.  Let  us  return  to 
the  plain  of  Marignan. 

The  victory  being  certain,  Francis  ordered  a  chapel  to 
be  raised  on  the  field  of  battle  in  commemoration  of  his 
gi'atitude  to  God  for  his  triumph.     With  the  old  spirit  of 


BAYARD    KNIGHTS    FRANCIS.  357 

chivalry,  of  which  he  was  an  ardent  disciple,  he  determin- 
ed to  receive  the  honors  of  knighthood  on  the  field  where 
he  had  so  gallantly  won  his  spurs.  There  was  a  two-fold 
reason  why  he  resolved  that  no  hands  but  those  of  Bayard, 
the  knight  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche,  should  bestow  the 
accolade.  The  good  taste  of  the  monarch  at  once  indicated 
to  him  the  propriety  of  choosing  for  this  duty  the  most  mod- 
est hero,  and  the  most  perfect  model  of  knightly  virtue  of 
the  times.  Besides,  the  signal  valor  of  Bayard,  and  his 
great  services  in  the  field  just  won,  entitled  him  fairly  to 
this  compliment.  Our  chevalier  was  summoned  to  his 
presence. 

"  Bayard,  my  friend,"  said  the  king,  "  I  desire  this  day  to 
be  knighted,  and  by  your  hands.  The  knight  that  has  fought 
on  foot  and  on  horseback,  in  many  battles,  is  justly  held  as 
most  worthy  to  perform  this  duty.  Thus  hath  it  been  vnth 
you — seeing  that  in  divers  battles  and  conquests  you  have 
combated  against  many  nations  and  always  valiantly." 

The  king  having  thus  declared  his  wish,  Bayard  modestly 
hesitated.  "  Sire,"  said  he,  "  the  king  of  so  noble  a  kingdom 
as  yours  is  already  a  knight  above  all  other  knights." 

*'  Nevertheless,"  replied  the  king,  "  you  will  do  quickly 
what  I  ask  thee.  Tell  me  not  of  laws  and  canons  here,  save 
those  of  steel,  and  brass,  and  iron.  Do  what  I  entreat 
thee,  if  you  would  have  me  reckon  you  my  good  friend  and 
subject." 

"  In  good  sooth,  sire,  since  such  is  your  pleasure,"  answer- 
ed Bayard,  "  I  will  gladly  perform  this  duty,  unworthy  as  I 
am,  not  once  but  many  times." 

Then  Bayard  took  his  sword,  and  as  he  laid  it  upon  the 
shoulders  of  the  king,  he  said — 

"  Sire,  may  this  ceremony  be  as  efficacious  as  if  it  weie 
performed  by  Roland  or  Oliver,  Godfiey  or  his  brother 
Baldwin.  Verily,  you  are  the  first  prince  that  ever  I  dub- 
bed a  knight.  God  grant  that  you  never  turn  your  back 
in  battle." 


358  THE    SWORD    OF    BAYARD. 

This  done,  Bayard,  lifting  his  sword  to  his  lips  and  kiss- 
ing it,  exclaimed,  in  a  sort  of  sportive  rapture,  **  Certes,  my 
good  sword,  thou  art  thrice  fortunate  this  day,  in  that  thou 
hast  conferred  the  accolade  on  the  bravest  and  greatest  king 
in  Christendom.  Verily,  my  good  sword,  thou  shalt  hence- 
forward be  kept  as  a  thing  sacred,  and  honored  beyond  all 
other  relics.  Here,  upon  thy  hilt,  I  vow  never  to  use  or 
wear  thee,  unless  in  battle  against  the  infidels  ;  never  again 
will  I  turn  thy  keen  edge  against  any  people  who  bear  the 
Christian  name  !"  With  these  words,  and  leaping  up  in 
the  exultation  of  his  spirit,  he  then  returned  the  consecrated 
weapon  to  its  scabbard.* 

Francis,  thus  authorized,  then  proceeded  to  confer  the 
same  honor  on  such  of  his  young  companions-at-arms  as 
had  merited  his  favor  by  their  deportment  in  the  battle. 
A  great  number  were  knighted.  Three  days  were  passed 
upon  the  field,  in  the  performance  of  these  ceremonies,  and 
the  burial  of  the  dead.  The  army  then  marched  upon 
Milan,  the  people  of  which  threw  open  their  gates,  while 
Maximilian  Sforza,  the  duke,  retreated  to  the  citadel, 
which  was  well  supplied  with  provisions  and  ammunition, 
and  reputed  to  be  the  strongest  in  the  world.  The  Swiss, 
who  had  fled  to  Milan,  shut  themselves  in  with  him,  and 
prepared  to  defend  the  castle  to  the  last  extremity.  The 
siege  was  instantly  commenced  and  plied  with  vigor,  and, 

*  This  sword  has  been  lost.  Charles  Emanuel,  duke  of  Savoy,  requested 
it  of  the  heirs  of  Bayard.  One  of  them,  Charles  du  Motet,  lord  of  Chichi- 
liane,  sent  him,  in  lieu  of  it,  the  battle-axe  which  the  hero  had  been  wont  to 
use.  The  duke,  writing  to  this  gentleman  of  Dauphiny,  remarked  that,  "  in 
the  midst  of  the  pleasure  which  he  felt  at  beholding  this  weapon  placed  in 
the  worthiest  part  of  his  gallery,  he  could  scarce  choose  but  regret  that  it 
was  not  still  in  the  hands  of  the  rightful  owner."  Some  authors  suggest 
that  Bayard  conferred  knighthood  upon  Francis  before,  and  not  after,  the  bat- 
tle of  Marignan  ;  but  the  "  Loyal  Servant"  is  explicit,  and  other  writers 
agree  with  him.  At  one  time  in  his  life,  the  period  not  precisely  known, 
Bayard  conferred  this  honor  on  the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Bourbon,  then  in  the 
arms  of  his  nurse.  This  was  done  at  the  request  of  the  prince,  whom  our 
knight  happened  to  visit  at  Moulinea. 


THE    MILANESE    CONaUERED.  359 

after  a  brief  defence,  the  place  was  surrendered  by  capitu- 
lation, Sforza  yielding  his  castles  of  Milan  and  Cremona, 
and  renouncing  his  ducal  rights  in  favor  of  Francis,  who 
took  him  under  his  protection,  promised  him  a  yearly 
stipend,  and  pledged  himself  to  use  all  his  influence  to 
procure  for  him  the  hat  of  a  cardinal.  Sforza  retired  to 
France,  where  he  died  in  1530.  The  Swiss  in  the 
gaiTison  were  paid  by  Francis  the  arrears  due  them  by 
their  late  employer,  and  an  amnesty  was  signed  including 
all  persons  who  had  taken  part  with  the  duke.  By  this 
treaty  Francis  became  master  of  the  whole  of  the  Mila- 
nese. He  made  his  entry  into  the  city  in  the  ducal 
robes,  accompanied  by  five  princes  of  the  blood,  and  at 
the  head  of  two  thousand  horse  and  twenty-four  thousand 
foot.  Here  he  received  the  faithless  assurances  of  the 
authorities,  and  heard  for  a  week  the  clamorous  protesta- 
tions of  fidelity  on  the  part  of  a  people,  who  had  violated 
their  oaths  quite  as  often  as  they  had  made  them.  The 
victory  of  Francis  astounded  his  enemies.  The  Spaniards, 
who,  suspecting  the  good  faith  of  the  Pope,  had  kept  aloof 
from  peril,  now  retired  upon  Naples.  From  the  timid 
Maximilian  no  farther  demonstrations  of  valor  could  be 
expected,  and,  even  the  Swiss,  though  growling  in  their 
mountains,  showed  no  alacrity  in  seeking  another  combat. 
The  ascendancy  of  Francis  in  Italy  was  now  sufficiently 
decided  to  prompt  the  Pope  to  yield  with  a  becoming 
grace  what  he  was  no  longer  in  condition  to  withhold. 
He  proposed  a  treaty  by  which  he  relinquished  his  preten- 
tions to  Parma  and  Placenza,  and  withdrew  such  troops 
of  his  as  were  in  the  service  of  the  emperor.  In  return 
for  these  concessions,  the  French  kin^  made  him  a  cession 
of  Bologna,  and  secured  to  him  the  exclusive  supply  of  salt 
fi:om  Cervia.  This  treaty  was  followed  by  an  interview 
between  the  Pope  and  Francis,  which  took  place  at  Bo- 
logna on  the  10th  of  December.  The  conference  occupied 
three  days,  in  which  Leo  succeeded   in   pei-suading  the 


360  MAXIMILIAN    IN    THE    FIELD. 

French  monarch  to  postpone  for  the  present  any  attempts  on 
Naples,  and  endeavored  to  engage  him  in  a  war  upon  the 
Turks,  offering  him,  by  way  of  inducement,  the  imposing 
title  of  Emperor  of  the  East.  Francis,  though  young,  was 
not  so  weak  as  to  grasp  at  a  shadow,  while  he  had  more  sub- 
stantial objects,  and  more  obvious  duties  before  his  eyes. 

Having  accomplished,  to  all  appearances,  the  pui-pose 
for  which  he  had  invaded  Italy,  he  returned  to  France, 
leaving  the  Constable  de  Bourbon  at  Milan,  in  the  capacity 
of  lieutenant-general.  Disturbances  were  threatened  on 
the  pait  of  England,  arising  from  the  machinations  of  the 
Cardinal  of  Sion ;  and  Henry  VIIL,  but  for  the  good 
faith  and  good  sense  of  the  English  council  would,  in  all 
probability,  have  violated  his  pledges,  broken  the  treaty  with 
France,  and  once  more  embarked  in  an  invasion  of  the 
tenitories  of  his  neighbor.  As  it  was,  he  could  not  be  pre- 
vented from  furnishing  money  to  assist  in  an  enterpiise 
for  the  recovery  of  the  Milanese  on  behalf  of  Francis,  the 
brother  of  Maximilian  Sforza. 

The  money  of  England,  the  specious  promises  of  Fer- 
dinand of  Spain,  and  the  vehement  exhortations  of  the 
Cardinal  of  Sion,  soon  persuaded  the  Emperor  Maximilian 
to  take  the  field  for  this  object.  To  the  sui-prise  of  every 
body,  this  sluggish  warrior,  and  most  mercenary  of  princes, 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  field  in  person,  with  an  army  of 
sixteen  thousand  lansquenets  and  fourteen  thousand  Swiss, 
of  such  of  the  cantons  as  were  not  included  in  the  league 
with  France.  Lautrec,  with  his  own  and  the  troops  of 
Venice,  was  about  to  reduce  the  gamson  of  Brescia,  when 
it  was  relieved  by  six  thousand  Gennans,  whom  Count 
Roguendolf  succeeded  in  throwing  into  the  town.  The 
French  and  their  allies  (the  Venetians),  who  were  totally  un- 
prepared for  any  such  enemy,  retired  to  Milan,  which  the 
constable  put  into  the  best  possible  posture  for  defence. 
Succors  were  demanded  from  France.  They  were  promptly 
sent,  and,  with  them  Bayard  returned  once  more  to  the  field 


PROGRESS    OF    THE    WAR.  361 

of  his  frequent  prowess.  He  had  previously  returned  to 
Dauphiny,  and  resumed  its  government  as  lieutenant-gen- 
eral. With  the  French  forces  came  a  large  body  of  Swiss 
auxiharies,  thirteen  thousand  in  number,  under  one  of  their 
most  celebrated  leaders,  Albeit  de  la  PieiTe.  These  presented 
a  formidable  foe  to  Maximilian,  the  progress  of  whose  anns 
was  by  no  means  so  rapid  and  successful  as  his  prompt  ap- 
pearance in  the  field  had  taught  the  world  to  expect.  But 
the  intrigues  of  the  Cardinal  de  Sion  were  more  decisive 
in  their  effects  than  the  genius  of  Maximilian  and  the  valor 
of  his  army.  He  succeeded  in  dissuading  the  Swiss  merce- 
naries of  the  French  from  fighting  against  their  own  people  ; 
and  this  resolution  encouraged  the  emperor  with  the  belief 
that  the  French  were  in  his  power.  He  sat  down  before 
Milan,  threatening  the  people  to  raze  it  to  its  foundations ; 
but,  before  he  had  done  much  toward  this  wished-for  con- 
summation, his  own  and  the  money  of  Henry  of  England 
was  nearly  exhausted.  The  Swiss  demanded  their  stipends; 
their  officers  forced  themselves  into  the  emperor's  bed-cham- 
ber to  urge  their  demands ;  and,  so  alarmed  him,  that  he 
seized  an  early  opportunity  to  decamp  from  a  proximity  so 
dangerous.  Setting  off  at  midnight,  with  only  two  hun- 
dred horse,  he  left  his  army  to  shift  for  itself.  Before  his 
flight  was  discovered,  he  was  beyond  pursuit.  He  had 
performed,  as  we  remember,  a  similar  feat  when  besieging 
Padua.  His  fame  depends  upon  such.  The  Swiss  indem- 
nified themselves  by  assessing  the  country,  while  the  Ger- 
mans fled  before  the  assaults  of  the  Count  de  St.  Pol, 
Montmorenci,  Lescun,  Bayard,  and  other  leaders.  Bayard, 
we  are  told,  took  a  great  many  piisoners ;  but  the  "  Loyal 
Servant,"  coolly  adds  that  the  ransom  of  Swiss  and  Geraian 
was  in  pike  and  dagger  only.  The  conquest  of  the  Milanese 
was  succeeded  by  the  death  of  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  of 
Spain.  By  this  event  France  was  relieved  of  a  faithless 
and  vindictive  enemy.  Nor  did  the  emperor  long  sui'vive 
him.    Ferdinand  was  succeeded  by  Charles  V.     The  death 

Hh 


363  RUBERT    DE    LA    MAROK. 

of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  left  vacant  the  throne  of  the 
empire,  and  thus  furnished  the  sovereigns  of  Europe  with 
a  new  apple  of  discord.  Charles  was  the  successful  can- 
didate, and  Francis  bitterly  felt  the  disappointment.  Up 
to  this  period  the  King  of  France  had  entertained  the  kind- 
liest feelings  for  Charles.  He  now  prepared  to  transfer 
them  to  Henry  VIII.  We  all  have  some  sufficient  recol- 
lection of  the  famous  '*  field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,"  where 
these  two  potentates,  long  adverse  to  each  other,  joined  in 
a  fraternal  embrace  ;  which,  however,  implied  but  a  moder- 
ate degree  of  brotherly  love.  Meanwhile,  events  were  in 
progress  which  again  threatened  to  disturb  the  peace  of 
Europe.  The  benign  dispensation  of  peace  was  not  des- 
tined for  a  long  duration.  It  was  while  Bayard  was  in  the 
quiet  enjoyment  of  his  government  of  Dauphiny,  that  he 
was  summoned  by  the  commands  of  Francis  once  more  to 
put  himself  in  harness  of  war.  The  occasion  of  these  new 
necessities  may  be  told  in  few  words,  though  these  require 
us,  in  some  degree,  to  retrace  our  steps.  Among  the 
friends  and  adherents  of  Francis,  not  of  his  own  people, 
were  Robert  de  la  Marck,  lord  of  Sedan,  by  whom  the 
Black  Bands  had  been  commanded  ;  and  Francis  Sickin- 
ghen,  a  German  adventurer,  of  extraordinary  genius  and 
courage,  who  led  an  independent  corps  of  his  own.  Both 
of  these  persons,  in  consequence  of  some  neglect  or  in- 
justice on  the  part  of  Francis,  went  over  to  Charles  V.,  and 
contributed,  in  considerable  degree,  to  the  election  of  the 
latter  to  the  throne  of  the  empire.  But  Robert  de  la  Marck 
subsequently  became  reconciled  to  the  French  monarch ;  and, 
having  suffered  some  indignity  at  the  hands  of  Charles,  was 
vain  and  audacious  enough  to  send  the  latter  a  defiance, 
menacing  his  dominions  with  invasion.  He  followed  up 
this  defiance  by  actual  inroads  into  the  territory  of  the  new 
emperor,  which  brought  down  upon  him  a  powerful  araiy, 
at  the  head  of  which  were  the  Count  of  Nassau  and  the 
German  adventurer,    Francis   Sickinghen.     Charles  com- 


BAYARD   AT   MEZIERES.  363 

plained  to  Francis  of  the  proceedings  of'  his  ally,  De  la 
Marck,  and  demanded  if  they  were  countenanced  by  him. 
Francis  disclaimed  all  sanction  of  what  De  la  Marck  had 
done,  and  enjoined  him  instantly  to  lay  down  his  arms. 
De  la  Marck  did  so,  in  the  full  conviction  that  his  forbear- 
ance would  disarm  the  emperor's  hostiHty.  But  no  sooner 
had  he  deprived  himself  of  the  means  of  defence,  than  the 
Count  of  Nassau  took  advantage  of  his  position,  to  pursue 
his  attack  with  redoubled  activity  and  fiiry;  and,  in  a  short 
time,  wrested  from  De  la  Marck  nearly  the  whole  of  his  ter- 
ritories. This  done,  he  marched  a  part  of  his  forces  upon 
the  teiTitory  of  France,  captured  the  French  town  of 
Mouzon,  and  hurried  on  to  the  siege  of  Mezieres. 

This  proceeding  could  neither  be  endured  with  safety 
nor  with  patience,  and  Francis  immediately  began  his  prep- 
arations to  repel  the  intruder  from  his  domains.  His  army 
was  so  disposed  as  to  cover  all  the  points  most  accessible 
to  attack.  To  Lautrec  was  assigned  the  government  of 
the  Milanese  ;  the  defence  of  Champagne  was  committed 
to  the  Duke  d'Alencon  ;  the  charge  of  Picardy  was  con- 
feri'ed  upon  the  Duke  de  Vendome,  and  the  Admiral  Bon- 
nivet  was  sent  to  Guienne.  Mezieres,  an  extremely  weak 
place,  badly  fortified  and  feebly  defended,  was  committed 
to  the  Chevalier  Bayard  at  the  moment  when,  Mouzon 
having  been  won,  the  Imperial  troops  found  all  the  ap- 
proaches to  it  open.  Its  fate  would  have  been  sealed  with- 
out an  offer  of  defence,  but  for  the  opinion  of  our  "  Good 
Knight."  Francis  called  a  council  to  determine  what 
should  be  done.  The  weakness  of  the  place  was  urged  as 
a  sufficient  reason  for  its  abandonment.  Bayard  alone 
opposed  this  decision.  "  No  place  is  weak,"  said  he, 
"  which  has  good  soldiers  to  defend  it."  He  was  forth- 
with entrusted  with  the  commission,  and  threw  himself  at 
once  into  Mezieres.  Thus  feeble,  and  thus  threatened, 
the  defence  could  not  have  been  given  to  better  hands. 
This  conviction  was  universal.     The  appointment  at  once 


364  HIS    ENERGIES. 

enlivened  the  confidence  of  the  country.  The  name  of 
Bayard  was  already  a  spell- word  for  the  youthful  chivalry 
of  France,  the  most  gallant  of  whom  immediately  crowded 
forward  to  serv^e  under  his  banner.  Young  Montmorenci, 
afterward  the  constable,  Charles  Alleman,  lord  of  Laval, 
Gaspard  TeiTail,  the  lord  of  Bernin,  and  many  more  of 
noble  and  gentle  blood,  sought  with  avidity  a  place  which 
they  knew  must  soon  become  the  scene  of  glory.  Bayard, 
seizing  upon  the  moment  of  enthusiasm,  swore  them  and 
the  chief  citizens  "  never  to  speak  of  suiTendering  to  the 
enemy — exacting  from  them  a  pledge  to  die  one  and  all  in 
defence  of  the  place.  If  food  failed  them,  they  were  to  eat 
their  horses  and  their  boots."  This  spirit  extended  from 
the  officers  to  the  soldiers.  The  latter  said,  among  them- 
selves, "  And  the  beasts  once  devoured,  we  will  eat  our 
lackeys."  But  this  spirit  did  not  endure  throughout  the 
siege.  Some  of  them,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter,  were  not 
equal  to  the  privation  and  danger  which  it  implied. 

Bayard  proceeded,  as  soon  as  he  reached  Mezieres,  to 
increase  and  improve  its  defences.  Night  and  day  was  he 
employed,  not  sparing  any  of  his  people,  in  the  erection 
of  the  necessary  works.  No  labor,  however  humble,  was 
forborne — no  faculty,  or  talent,  or  agent,  left  unemploy- 
ed— and  more  than  six  thousand  crowns  of  his  own  money 
— in  all  probability  all  that  he  had  or  could  command — 
were  expended  in  making  the  place  tenable.  It  was  the 
habitual  rule  of  our  good  knight  to  sacrifice  every  thing  per- 
sonal to  his  considerations  of  duty — to  give  himself  up  thor- 
oughly to  the  work  in  hand,  well  knowing  that  there  is  no 
triumph  unless  the  heart  be  wholly  devoted  to  its  objects, 
and  the  whole  soul  be  delivered  to  the  cause  which  it  es- 
pouses, at  the  utter  sacrifice  of  self.  "  What,  sirs,"  he  ex- 
claimed to  the  young  knights  around  him,  as  he  thus  justi- 
fied the  exaction  of  their  physical  labor,  and  gave  it  his  own 
example,  **  what !  shall  this  goodly  town  be  lost  through 
our  fault  and  non-performance, — we  who,  altogether  form 


SIEGE    OF    MEZIERES.  365 

SO  noble  a  company,  and  one  consisting  of  so  many  noble 
persons  ?  It  is  only  by  this  work  that  we  may  hope  to 
contend  with  our  enemy.  Were  we  in  the  field,  with  a 
ditch  of  four  feet  only  between  us  and  the  foe,  methinks 
we  could  baffle  all  their  forces  for  a  day  at  least,  and  not  be 
defeated.  Now,  God  be  praised,  we  have  ditch,  and  wall, 
and  rampart,  on  which,  before  our  enemies  can  possibly 
set  foot,  there  shall  many  a  band  of  them  lie  sleeping  in 
these  trenches." 

Their  very  nobility  was  rendered  a  reason  why  they 
should  engage  heartily  in  this  labor.  It  was  not  taken  in 
vain  ;  a  few  days  were  to  test  its  value.  These  brought  the 
Count  of  Nassau,  with  twenty  thousand  men,  and  the  Lord 
Francis  of  Sickinghen,  with  fifteen  thousand,  who,  occupy- 
ing opposite  sides  of  the  river  Mouse,  proceeded  to  the 
leaguer  of  the  town.  The  seemingly  defenceless  place — 
seemingly  defenceless,  almost  under  any  circumstances, 
against  so  large  an  army — was  summoned  to  surrender. 
The  herald  who  brought  the  demand  on  the  part  of  the 
two  generals  of  the  emperor,  represented  to  him  in  consid- 
erate terms,  how  impossible  it  was  to  hold  the  place  against 
such  a  power  as  theirs.  They  were  aware  that  the  great 
and  laudable  spirit  of  chivalry  which  filled  the  heart  of 
Bayard  would  prompt  him  almost  to  attempt  impossible 
things,  but  they  warned  him  that  the  capture  of  the  place 
by  storm  would  not  only  be  a  great  diminution  of  his  fame, 
but  might  also  cost  him  his  life.  They  urged  upon  him 
other  tender  considerations,  and  offered  him  favorable  and 
honorable  conditions,  to  persuade  him  to  suri'ender. 

Bayard  smiled  as  he  listened,  but  took  no  time  to  con- 
sider the  demand. 

"  My  friend,"  said  he  to  the  herald,  "  I  am  overwhelmed 
by  the  condescension  of  my  lords  of  Nassau  and  Sicking- 
hen, in  showing  such  a  tender  interest  for  the  safety  and  re- 
nown of  one  with  whom  they  have  had  so  little  intercourse. 
You  shall  retura  to  them,  friend  herald,  and  say  that  the 


366  GREAT    JOHN    OF    PICARDY. 

king,  my  master,  had  in  his  kingdom  many  captains  much 
abler  than  myself,  to  whom  he  might  have  committed  the 
defence  of  this  little  town  of  Mezieres ;  but  since  he  hath, 
of  all  these,  conferred  the  honor  of  this  trust  upon  me,  I 
shall  value  it  as  something  too  precious  to  be  suddenly 
abandoned.  Tell  your  captains,  that  they  shall  sooner 
weary  of  its  assault  than  shall  I  in  its  maintenance.  I  am 
no  child  whom  horrid  words  will  frighten ;  and  they  shall 
find,  that  when  it  shall  so  happen  that  we  can  make  this 
town  tenable  no  longer,  we  shall  then  hope  to  leave  it  over 
a  bridge  made  of  our  enemies'  bodies."  To  Francis  of 
Sickinghen,  in  particular,  Bayard  sent  the  pleasant  mes- 
sage, that  **  The  French  Bayard,  while  he  acknowledged 
the  valor,  had  no  fear  of  the  German  War  Horse — the  nom 
de  guerre  which  Sickinghen  had  acquired. 

When  this  answer  was  carried  back  to  Nassau  and  Sick- 
inghen, there  was  present  a  captain  named  Great  John  of 
Picardy,  who  knew  the  character  and  the  resources  of 
Bayard  much  better  than  either  of  the  former.  He  said  to 
them  openly  :  "  This  knight  Bayard  will  give  you  trouble 
before  you  take  Mezieres.  Nay,  you  need  never  expect 
to  enter  it  while  he  remains  alive.  I  know  him.  I  have 
often  followed  him  to  battle.  He  is  that  sort  of  person, 
who,  if  the  people  under  him  were  the  greatest  cowards  in 
the  world,  would  be  sure  to  make  them  brave.  Depend 
upon  it,  they  will  die  in  the  breach,  all  of  them,  and  he 
among  them,  ere  we  set  foot  in  this  town.  For  my  part,  I 
should  rather  he  were  away  from  Mezieres,  though  the 
King  of  France  should  put  two  thousand  good  soldiers  in 
his  place." 

The  Count  of  Nassau  was  somewhat  piqued  at  this 
hearty  commendation  of  his  enemy.  "  Captain  Great 
John,"  said  he,  "  The  Lord  of  Bayard  is,  I  take  it,  of  no 
more  steel  and  iron  than  is  other  men.  If  he  be  such 
a  warrior  as  you  speak  him,  it  will  need  all  his  fortune 
to   keep    Mezieres   for   the   next   four   days,  against  the 


THE    SIEGE    OF    MEZIERES.  367 

Storm  of  shot  which  I  shall  hurl  against  him  from  every 
side  !" 

"  We  shall  see,"  was  the  answer  of  the  captain  from 
Picardy ;  **  but  you  will  hardly  find  the  upshot  of  this  bus- 
iness such  as  you  look  for." 

Count  Nassau  did  his  best  to  give  the  lie  to  the  predic- 
tions of  this  plain  speaker,  and  opened  his  batteries,  which 
were  well  served,  from  both  sides  of  the  river.  It  is  said, 
by  Mezeray,  that  bombs  were  first  brought  into  practice 
during  this  leaguer  of  Mezieres.  Certain  it  is,  that  the 
bombardment  was  sufficiently  terrible  and  destructive, — so 
much  so,  that  some  of  the  garrison,  whom  we  have  seen 
taking  a  solemn  pledge,  before  the  siege  began,  to  defy  all 
its  vicissitudes  and  dangers,  however  extreme,  resolved  no 
longer  to  partake  of  a  defence  which  was  so  desperate. 
In  spite  of  the  threats  and  entreaties  of  their  commanders, 
two  whole  companies  deserted,  in  a  body,  through  a  breach 
which  the  enemy's  artillery  had  made  in  the  wall.  This 
event  did  by  no  means  discourage  or  disconcert  our  hero. 
He  coolly  called  together  the  remainder  of  his  troops,  and 
congratulated  them  on  being  fireed  firom  the  presence  of 
those  who  only  encumbered  the  defence,  and  who  might 
have  claimed  a  share  of  the  honors  which  they  had  not  the 
gallantry  to  win.  "  Let  them  go — such  rascals  are  better 
far  than  near.     The  more  the  glory  to  those  who  remain  !" 

And  the  ganison  resumed  the  defence  with  as  much 
spirit  as  if  they  had  suffered  no  loss,  and  were  in  no  dan- 
ger. The  details  of  this  defence  are  only  credible  as  they 
are  consistent  vdth  all  that  is  known  of  Bayard's  previous 
career.  His  resources  never  seemed  so  ample  as  now, 
when  his  hopes  rested  almost  wholly  on  himself.  His 
ordnance  was  so  well  served,  his  sallies  so  rightly  timed 
and  rightly  directed,  and  conducted  with  such  equal  dis- 
cretion and  bravery,  that  the  besiegers  seemed  to  gain 
nothing  by  all  their  batteries,  though  the  walls  every  day 
betrayed  the  efficiency  of  their  artillery,  and  the  constancy, 


368  bayard's  expedients. 

with  which  it  was  employed.  In  less  than  four  days,  more 
than  five  thousand  shots  were  discharged.  But  the  breaches 
in  the  walls  were  repaired  as  if  by  magic.  There  was  no 
diminution  of  the  spiiit  or  the  industry  of  the  gamson. 
The  night  served  to  remedy  the  mischief  of  the  day  ;  and, 
for  six  weeks  this  little  town — which  it  was  not  thought 
possible  to  hold  for  twenty-four  hours — with  a  force 
which  did  not  exceed  a  thousand  men,  baffled  an  army  of 
thirty-five  thousand,  having  an  ample  supply  of  heavy  artil- 
lery. Well  might  the  assailants  show  a  feeling  of  weari- 
ness, if  not  of  shame.  It  was,  probably,  about  this  period 
that  they  desired  to  know  what  quantity  of  provisions 
remained  to  the  garrison.  Accordingly,  Captain  Picart, 
already  mentioned,  sent  a  trumpet  to  Bayard,  as  his  old 
companion-in-arms,  to  ask  him  for  a  bottle  of  wine.  The 
sagacious  commandant  divined  the  proper  object  of  the 
message.  He  took  the  trumpeter  into  a  large  cellar,  well 
filled  with  hogsheads,  from  one  of  which  he  drew  two 
bottles,  without  being  at  the  pains  to  explain  to  him  that 
all  the  rest  were  filled  with  water.  The  garrison,  indeed, 
were  in  grievous  straits.  Provisions  were  failing  rapidly. 
Disease  was  making  fearful  ravages  among  the  troops  and 
people,  and  there  was  no  apparent  prospect  of  relief.  It 
became  necessary  for  Bayard,  always  fertile  in  resources, 
to  devise  some  new  expedient  for  raising  the  siege.  He 
conceived  the  idea  of  sowing  dissensions  between  the  two 
camps  of  the  enemy.  This  was  done  by  a  letter,  addressed 
to  Lord  Robert  de  la  Marck,  then  at  his  castle  of  Sedan — 
the  only  one  of  which  the  imperial  army  had  left  him  the 
possession — ingeniously  worded,  to  produce  an  impression 
on  Sickinghen  (should  it  fall  into  his  hands,  as  it  was  the 
purpose  of  Bayard  that  it  should)  that  he  was  about  to  be 
sacrificed  by  his  colleague.  There  were  some  jealousies 
already  existing  between  the  parties,  in  regard  to  the 
command,  an  intimation  of  which  had  reached  Bayard,  and 
of  which  he  promptly  proceeded   to  avail  himself.      His 


SUCCESS  OF  THE  STRATAGEM.  SG9 

letter  ran  thus,  after  some  preliminaries  relating  to  the 
siege,  of  which  we  are  already  in  possession  : — ^"  If  I  re- 
member rightly,  my  dear  lord,  you  said  to  me,  some  six 
months  ago,  that  you  would  find  the  means  to  persuade 
the  Count  of  Nassau,  your  former  friend  and  ally,  to  enter 
the  service  of  the  king,  my  master.  He  is  reputed  a  very 
gallant  person,  and  I  should  truly  rejoice  if  this  could  be 
accomplished.  You  will  do  well  to  see  him  on  this  sub- 
ject, and  better  to-day  than  to-morrow.  It  will  be  well 
for  him,  and  will  please  me,  should  he  prove  of  your  way 
of  thinking ;  for  I  must  tell  you  that,  if  not,  he  and  his 
camp  will  all  be  cut  to  pieces  within  the  next  four-and- 
twenty  hours.  "Within  three  short  leagues  we  have 
approaching  an  army  of  twelve  thousand  Swiss,  and 
eight  hundred  gendarms.  To-morrow,  at  the  break 
of  day,  they  purpose  falling  upon  his  camp,  while,  on  my 
side,  I  shall  make  a  sally  from  the  town,  and  he  must 
be  dexterous  and  fortunate,  indeed,  to  escape  us  both. 
Make  the  most  of  this  information,  but  be  sure  and  keep  it 
secret." 

The  peasant,  to  whom  the  letter  was  confided,  fell,  just 
as  Bayard  had  devised,  into  the  hands  of  Sickinghen.  The 
artifice  succeeded.  The  heart-burnings  of  Sickinghen 
were  now  permitted  to  take  a  voice  and  declare  themselves. 
He  swore  a  bitter  oath  that  "My  Lord  of  Nassau  should 
no  longer  carry  it  as  he  pleased.  He  seeks  my  desti'uc- 
tion," — was  his  language  to  his  chief  officers,  to  whom  the 
insidious  epistle  was  displayed.  They  concurred  with  him 
in  opinion,  and,  without  more  ado,  he  caused  the  drums  to 
sound  a  retreat,  and  prepared  to  cross  the  river  to  the  camp 
of  his  colleague  and  superior.  Tidings  to  this  effect  were 
carried  to  the  Count  of  Nassau,  who,  in  great  surprise,  sent 
word  to  him  to  desist  from  what  he  had  determined  on,  until 
they  had  first  confeiTed  together.  "  Away  to  the  Count  of 
Nassau,"  cried  the  suspicious  and  indignant  Sickinghen,  **  and 
say  to  him  that  I  will  not  for  his  pleasure  remain  here  to 


370  THE    SIEGE    RAISED. 

be  slaughtered.  Let  him  attempt  to  hinder  me  from  taking 
up  my  station  near  him,  and  arms  shall  decide  between  us 
who  is  to  be  master  of  the  field."  This  message  was  of  a 
character  to  confound  the  count,  who  immediately  began  to 
array  his  troops  in  order  of  battle.  Those  of  Sickinghen, 
as  they  crossed  the  river,  were  also  put  in  order  for  the 
fight.  Bayard  and  his  captains  beheld  the  whole  scene 
from  the  walls  of  Mezieres.  In  the  excitement  of  Sickin- 
ghen, or  probably  with  his  consent,  the  peasant,  whose 
intercepted  letter  had  done  the  mischief,  had  been  allowed 
to  escape,  and,  in  fear  and  trembling,  presented  himself  to 
the  delighted  commandant.  His  fears  were  expelled  by  the 
undisguised  merriment  of  Bayard,  who  laughed  obstreper- 
ously as  he  beheld  the  excellent  results  which  had  followed 
the  meditations  of  Sickinghen  upon  his  letter  to  De  laMarck. 
Nothing  could  have  worked  better  for  his  objects.  There, 
before  his  eyes,  were  the  two  camps  in  hostile  array, 
drums  beating  and  trumpets  sounding  with  great  vehe- 
mence, and  the  opposing  parties  eager  to  take  each  other 
by  the  throats.  "  Perdy  !"  exclaimed  our  knight,  "  since 
they  will  not  begin  the  battle,  I  must ;"  and  he  opened  a 
cannonade  among  them.  This  had  the  effect  of  diiving 
them  to  their  tents.  The  explanation  which  followed,  be- 
tween the  parties,  came  quite  too  late  to  repair  the  mischief. 
The  delay  which  was  occasioned  in  the  leaguer,  by  this 
artifice,  enabled  Francis  to  throw  a  powerful  relief  into 
Mezieres,  while  the  Duke  d'Alengon  advanced  the  main 
body  of  his  army  to  within  a  few  leagues  of  the  place. 
The  predictions  of  Captain  Picart  were  realized.  The 
assault  was  never  attempted.  The  siege  was  raised,  and, 
baffled  thus  admirably  in  Champagne,  the  imperial  troops 
turned  their  fury  upon  Picardy,  pillaging  and  destroying 
wherever  they  came. 

This  defence  of  Mezieres  greatly  extended,  if  it  could 
not  increase  the  reputation  of  Bayard.  Francis  visited 
him  in  his  camp,  conferred  upon  him  the  collar  of  St.  Mi- 


HONORS    OF    BAYxVRU.  371 

chael,  and  endowed  him  with  the  command-in-chief  of  a 
company  of  an  hundred  men-at-arms — an  honor  which  had 
hitherto  been  conferred  only  on  princes  of  the  blood.  All 
France  resounded  with  his  eulogies ;  and,  as  the  winter  ap- 
proached, having  followed  the  king  to  Paris,  he  Wcis  waited 
upon  by  a  deputation  from  the  parliament,  whose  members 
conveyed  him  the  thanks  of  the  nation.  The  event  which 
secured  him  these  compliments  became,  long  afterward,  the 
subject  of  a  public  fete  among  the  people  whom  he  had  so 
well  defended;  and  which  they  continued  to  celebrate  on 
each  anniversary  of  the  siege. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

From  Champagne  the  imperial  troops  proceeded  to- 
ward Picardy,  their  progress  being  traced  in  outrages  of 
the  most  revolting  kind.  Francis  pursued  them  at  the 
head  of  his  army,  taking  Bayard  with  him.  Mouzon  was 
retaken ;  and,  but  for  a  malign  influence  which  had  for 
some  time  interfered  with  the  proper  councils  of  the  French 
monarch,  the  Emperor  Charles  himself,  who  had  met  his 
retreating  army  at  Valenciennes,  would  have  fallen  into  his 
hands.  Francis  desired  eagerly  to  come  to  blows  with  his 
wily  rival  and  enemy,  and  threw  a  bridge  across  the  Scheldt 
for  this  purpose.  The  Count  of  Nassau  appeared  to  dis- 
pute the  passage.  A  thick  fog  prevented  the  French  from 
ascertaining  the  number  of  the  force  which  the  former 
brought  with  him,  and  the  hesitation  which  this  doubt 
inspired,  and  against  which  all  his  tried  veterans  argued 
earnestly,  prevailed  to  deprive  Francis  of  a  golden  oppor- 
tunity which  fortune  a  second  time  never  offered  to  his 
grasp.  The  emperor  discovered  his  danger  in  time  to 
escape  it,  by  a  precipitate  departure  from  his  position. 
The  same  evil  influence  which  had  led  to  this  disappoint- 
ment succeeded  in  prompting  an  injustice,  on  the  part  of 
the  king,  to  a  powerful  subject,  which  contributed  to  future 
disasters.  De  Bourbon,  as  constable  of  France,  claimed 
the  right  to  command  the  vanguard  of  the  army  while 
crossing  the  Scheldt.  It  was  coldly  denied  him,  and 
given  to  the  Duke  d'Alenqon.  This,  and  other  wrongs, 
done  to  the  same  noble  person,  were  destined  to  bring  the 
monarch  to  a  perilous  defeat,  and  the  most  humiliating 
captivity.     But  of  this  hereafter.     The  successes  of  the 


DISaLIETS    IN    ITALY.  373 

French  continued.  The  Duke  de  Vendome  penetrated 
into  Artois  and  Hainault,  took  and  dismantled  Bapaurac 
and  Landrecies,  and  ravaged  the  country  quite  as  effectu- 
ally as  the  imperialists  had  done  that  of  Picardy.  Bonni- 
vet,  who  had  been  despatched  with  a  considerable  force  of 
lansquenets  to  the  succor  of  the  young  King  of  Navarre, 
by  a  seiies  of  rapid  exploits  captured  several  places  of  im- 
portance, and  laid  siege  so  vigorously  to  the  strong  fortress 
of  Fontarabia,  as  in  a  short  time  to  compel  its  capitulation. 
Meanwhile,  an  attempt  was  made  at  negotiation,  and  for 
the  reconciliation  of  the  contending  monarchs,  under  the 
auspices  and  arbitration  of  Henry  VIII.,  or,  rather.  Cardinal 
Wolsey;  but  the  proceeding  came  to  no  beneficial  conclu- 
sion. The  winter  passed  in  skirmishes,  which  were  genei*- 
ally  favorable  to  the  French  ;  and  no  events  of  present  im- 
portance requiring  him  at  the  seat  of  war.  Bayard  attended 
the  king  to  Paris,  from  whence,  after  a  brief  sojoura,  he 
proceeded  to  Grenoble,  enjoying,  in  his  native  province,  the 
affectionate  admiration  and  attachment  of  his  people. 

But,  with  the  approach  of  spring,  the  affairs  of  Italy 
grew  clouded.  Lautrec,  who  governed  in  the  Milanese, 
revolted  the  people  by  his  barbarities,  and  the  fickle  Ital- 
ians sighed  once  more  for  the  I'estoration  of  the  Sforzas. 
Lautrec  was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Lescun,  the  mar- 
shal de  Foix ;  but  this  change  brought  no  improvement. 
The  indiscretions  of  the  governor  were  endless.  The 
principal  citizens  of  Milan  were  banished,  and  the  number 
of  exiles,  voluntary  or  constrained,  became  so  great  as  to 
draw  upon  them  the  persecuting  regards  of  Lescun,  even 
in  the  places  where  they  had  taken  refuge.  Some  of 
them  had  found  shelter  in  the  Pope's  city  of  Reggio.  He 
pursued  them  thither,  and  besieged  the  place,  but  was 
baffled  by  the  defence.  This  proceeding  afforded  a  pre- 
text to  Leo  X.  to  break  with  the  French  and  conclude  a 
treaty  with  the  emperor.  The  result  was  a  resumption  of 
activity  by  all  those  who  loathed  the  French  authority,  or 

Ii 


374  BAVARD  SENT  TO  GENOA. 

were  interested  in  its  overthrow.  These  inquietudes  in 
his  Italian  dominions,  disturbed  the  security  of  Francis, 
and,  while  he  gave  his  attention  to  other  places,  he  chose 
Bayard,  as  one  of  the  most  prudent  and  sagacious  of  his 
captains,  to  proceed  to  Genoa,  which  had  betrayed  and 
shown  a  factious  disposition.  The  commission  of  the  king 
was  couched  in  the  most  flattering  language.  **  I  entreat 
you  to  undertake  this  charge  for  the  love  you  bear  me.  My 
greatest  hopes  are  in  the  eflicacy  of  your  presence."  The 
commission  was  as  cheerfully  accepted  as  it  was  gi'aciously 
conferred.  Bayard  crossed  the  Alps,  and  was  well  re- 
ceived at  Genoa  by  the  governor,  the  nobility,  and  the 
people  in  general,  all  of  whom  showed  him  the  greatest 
deference  and  attention.  What  was  the  particular  charge 
assigned  him  in  Genoa — what  duties  he  performed,  and 
services  he  rendered,  have  been  kept  from  the  histories. 
His  commie^-" on  was,  most  probably,  a  secret  one.  This 
he  seems  to  have  executed  satisfactorily.  On  leaving 
Genoa,  he  joined  the  aiTny  of  Lescun,  marshal  de  Foix, 
who  was  now  prepaiing  with  all  energy  to  repair,  by  anns, 
the  evil  consequence  of  his  own  and  his  brother's  admin- 
istration of  the  Milanese  government.  The  forces  of  the 
emperor  and  the  Pope  were  strengthened  by  those  of  the 
Marquis  of  Mantua,  the  ancient  and  firai  ally  of  Louis  XII. 
He,  too,  had  been  driven  from  the  side  of  France  by  the 
ill-treatment  of  her  government  in  Italy.  A  large  body  of 
Swiss  had  also  been  subsidized  for  the  army  of  the  allies, 
by  the  intrigues  of  the  Cardinal  of  Sion ;  and  the  fertile 
plains  of  Italy  were  again  to  be  made  the  theatre  in  which 
the  people  of  other  countiies  were  to  play  out  their  parts 
in  blood.  To  oppose  these  enemies,  Lautrec,  who  had 
now  resumed  the  government  of  the  Milanese,  had  his  own 
army  of  French,  the  troops  of  the  Venetians,  and  a  levy 
of  Swiss  which  had  been  made  on  the  first  aspect  of  dan- 
ger. The  return  of  Lautrec  was  a  signal  for  the  renewal 
of  those  odious  severities,  which  had  already  made  the 


THE    WAR    IN    ITALY.  375 

French  so  unpopular.  They  were  doubly  impolitic  in  the 
moment  of  impending  conflict.  The  campaign  in  the  Mi- 
lanese was  begun ;  and,  on  the  eve  of  an  action  near  Re- 
becque,the  Swiss  were  withdrawn  from  their  banners  by  the 
artifices  of  the  Cardinal  de  Sion.  This  uncompromising 
enemy  of  the  French  had  succeeded  in  intercepting  the 
orders  of  the  Helvetic  body  to  the  Swiss  in  both  armies, 
commanding  them  to  repair  instantly  to  their  homes.  He 
suppressed  the  despatch  intended  for  the  Swiss  serving 
among  the  allies,  and  suffered  those  only  to  be  received 
which  were  addressed  to  the  stipendiaries  of  the  French. 
The  latter  submissively  obeyed  the  order,  and,  as  they 
left  the  one  army,  the  cardinal  had  the  address  to  secure 
their  services  for  the  other,  alledging  that  it  was  the  ser- 
vice under  the  French  banner,  only,  that  was  forbidden  by 
the  Diet.  Lautrec  thus  deserted,  by  a  large  part  of  his 
troops,  almost  in  the  moment  of  engagement,  was  com- 
pelled to  retreat  upon  Milan.  Closely  pursued  by  his 
enemy,  he  continued  his  retreat  to  Como,  and  from  Como 
to  the  Venetian  territories.  Italy  was  once  more  lost  to 
the  French,  at  a  moment  when  Francis  had  every  reason 
to  believe  that  he  was  about  to  find  Henry  VIII.  arrayed 
with  his  numerous  enemies  against  him.  The  death  of 
Leo  X.  at  the  close  of  this  year,  was  an  offset  to  this  evil 
intelligence.  If  not  always  an  open,  Leo  had  always  been 
the  secret  foe  of  the  French.  He  was  jealous  of  the  am- 
bition of  Francis,  and  he  had  his  own.  He  was  succeeded 
by  Adrian,  cardinal  of  Tortosa,  a  man  of  feeble  will  and 
irresolute  character,  who  soon  showed  himse'  ^  the  rancor- 
ous enemy  of  France,  and  the  ally  of  the  emperor,  of 
whose  boyhood  he  had  been  the  preceptor. 

Francis  determined  to  renew  the  war.  He  was  not  less 
reluctant  than  his  predecessor  had  been  to  abandon  his  de- 
signs upon  the  Milanese.  Lautrec  was  again  unwisely 
commissioned  as  the  leader  of  this  new  campaign.  La 
Palisse  marched  a  levy  of  sixteen  thousand  Swiss  across 


376  THE  SWISS  COMPEL  A  BATTLE. 

the  Alps  to  his  assistance,  and  the  French  army  was  once 
more  in  the  field,  with  new  hopes  and  unshaken  courage. 
After  several  small  successes,  they  laid  siege  to  Milan. 
But  the  place  was  strongly  fortified,  and  admirably  defend- 
ed by  Prospero  Colonna.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  French 
strove  equally  against  the  citadel  and  the  walls  of  the  town. 
His  efforts  were  unavailing,  and,  convinced  of  the  hopeless- 
ness of  the  attempt,  he  withdrew  his  forces,  and  found  an 
easier  conquest  in  the  city  of  Novara.  Here  he  was  joined 
by  additional  forces  brought  him  by  his  brother.  Among 
these  were  Pietro  de  Navarro  and  our  chevalier.  Bayard. 
Joined  by  the  forces  of  Sforza,  Colonna  marched  to  Bi- 
cocca,  where  he  took  up  a  very  advantageous  post.  This 
jilaco  consisted  of  a  castle,  situated  in  a  spacious  park, 
which  had  formerly  been  used  as  a  chase  by  the  dukes  of 
Milan.  It  was  surrounded  by  deep  ditches,  well  fortified, 
and  but  a  league  from  the  city  of  Milan.  Lautrec,  after 
reconnaissance,  wisely  resolved  not  to  attempt  it.  But  this 
prudent  decision  was  altered  in  consequence  of  the  mutin- 
ous temper  of  his  Swiss.  These  troublesome  mountaineers 
were  impatient  for  their  pay,  which  had  been  withheld  by 
the  griping  avarice  of  individuals  who  virtually  wielded  the 
French  government  at  home.  Francis  had  become  the 
creature  of  his  own  debaucheries,  and  the  sword  of  the 
enemy  was  but  too  frequently  sharpened  for  the  throat  of 
his  country,  by  some  fair  minister  of  his  passions.  The  bad 
faith  of  the  ministers,  furnished  Lautrec  with  only  too  good 
an  excuse  for  his  ill-fortune  and  evil  management.  His 
Swiss,  clamorous  for  their  money,  required,  failing  in  this, 
either  to  bo  led  against  the  enemy,  or  suffered  to  depart. 
It  was  in  vain  that  the  French  commander  pointed  out  to 
them  the  great  strength  of  the  post  which  Colonna  occu- 
pied. They  insisted  on  the  alternative  which  they  had  sub- 
mitted, and  rather  than  lose  one  half  of  his  army,  he  con- 
cluded to  do  worse — obey  its  orders.  However  reluctantly, 
he  gave  the  signal  for  the  action  at  daybreak  on  the  follow- 


THE    BATTLE.  377 

ing  morning.  Montmorenci  led  the  advanced  guard,  Lau- 
trec  commanded  the  battle,  and  the  Duke  of  Urbino  brought 
up  the  rear.  The  Swiss  were  chiefly  with  the  first  divi- 
sion. Montmorenci,  having  reached  a  defile  near  the  en- 
trenchments, would  have  waited  for  his  artillery.  But  the 
Swiss  despised  artillery.  They  would  wait  for  nothing. 
They  felt  their  power,  and  were  insolent  in  its  exercise. 
They  would  fight  only  as  they  pleased  ;  and,  tumultuously, 
with  their  usual  impatience,  they  rushed  forward  to  the  as- 
sault. Colonna  was  every  where  prepared  for  them.  His 
spies  had  faithfully  reported  events,  and  he  knew  where  to 
expect  them.  His  artillery  and  musketry  opened  upon 
their  advancing  masses  with  destructive  effect.  Whole 
files  were  swept  away  as  fast  as  they  drew  nigh.  It  was 
in  vain  that  any  of  them  reached  the  fosse ;  since  the  en- 
trenchments were  too  high  for  their  pikes,  which  were 
vainly  thrust  up  from  the  ditches  against  the  defenders. 
The  carnage  was  dreadful.  Three  thousand  of  the  Swiss 
perished,  and  among  them  their  famous  leader  Albert  de  la 
Pierre.  Montmorenci  was  badly  wounded.  His  com- 
mand paid  dearly  for  their  insolence. 

Meanwhile,  the  gendarms,  among  whom,  and  at  the  head 
of  whom,  was  Bayard — led  by  De  Foix — had  forced  their 
way  into  the  enti-enchments.  They  might  have  maintained 
themselves  in  them — might  have  retrieved  the  battle — had 
they  been  supported  by  the  Swiss  of  his  division.  But,  in- 
solently rash  on  the  one  hand,  the  mountaineers  were  in- 
solently cold  and  indifferent  on  the  other.  The  devoted 
gendarms,  after  a  fierce  struggle,  were  either  put  hors  de 
combat,  or  expelled  from  the  entrenchments.  Colonna,  see- 
ing the  advantage  gained,  directed  a  sally  to  be  made  for 
the  purpose  of  taking  the  Swiss  in  flank.  The  manoeuvre 
was  fortunately  defeated  by  Pontdoray,  who,  with  another 
body  of  gendarms,  met  the  troops  sent  upon  this  enterprise 
and  defeated  and  drove  them  back  with  loss.  This  event, 
in  some  degi-ee,  saved  the  credit  of  the   day.      Lautrec 


378  THE    MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FRENCH. 

would  have  renewed  the  battle  the  next  morning,  but  the 
Swiss  bitterly  declared  their  deteraiination  to  retire.  They 
would  now  fight  only  when  they  pleased.  The  French 
general  proposed  to  attack  the  fortress  on  four  different 
points,  and  offered  to  relieve  the  Swiss  from  the  post  of 
danger,  by  placing  the  French  men-at-arms  in  the  fi'ont  of 
the  battle.  But  they  had  no  stomach  for  the  enterprise, 
and  determined  to  retreat.  This  they  executed  in  a  manner 
so  disorderly  that,  but  for  the  protection  of  the  French 
cavalry,  they  would  have  been  cut  to  pieces.  Their  de- 
parture naturally  dissolved  the  army  of  De  Foix.  With  the 
flight  of  the  Swiss  to  their  native  mountains,  the  gi*eatest 
portion  of  his  force  was  lopt  away.  He  could  offer  no 
farther  opposition  to  the  enemy,  and  would  only  peril  the 
wretched  remnant  of  his  troops  by  any  attempt  to  do  so. 
The  lilies  of  France  were  once  more  driven  out  of  Italy. 

The  fortunes  of  Francis,  chiefly  in  consequence  of  the 
perverse  administration  of  his  government,  through  the  un- 
worthy creatures  of  his  pleasures,  were  every  where  unpros- 
perous.  Henry  of  England  concluded  a  treaty  with  the 
emperor,  and  against  France.  This  was  followed  by  a 
declaration  of  war,  and  the  invasion  of  the  coasts  of  Nor- 
mandy and  Brittany  by  a  force  under  the  Earl  of  Surrey. 
Even  the  Venetians  joined  the  league  of  the  emperor 
against  their  ancient  allies;  and  France,  in  Italy,  was  almost 
without  a  friend.  But  these  events,  and  this  prospect,  did 
not  abate  the  desire  of  the  French  monarch  to  recover  the 
Milanese.  Having  provided  for  the  defence  of  his  own 
kingdom,  he  proceeded  to  raise  a  new  army  for  this 
purpose,  in  defiance  of  the  powerful  confederacy  which 
was  formed  against  him — a  confederacy  including  almost 
every  potentate  in  Europe.  If  Francis  erred  and  was 
feeble  as  a  politician,  he  was  nevertheless  a  knight  of 
gallant  spirit.  "  I  know,"  said  he,  "that  all  Europe  is  band- 
ed against  me,  but  I  will  make  head  against  all  Europe.  I 
do  not  fear  the  emperor,  for  he  has  no  money.     I  do  not 


THE  CONSTABLE  DE  BOURBON.  379 

fear  the  King  of  England,  for  my  frontier  is  secure  against 
his  assaults.  I  do  not  fear  the  Flemings ;  they  are  notori- 
ously bad  soldiers.  And,  for  Italy,  I  will  conquer  Milan  in 
person !  I  will,  in  spite  of  all  my  enemies,  recover  every 
inch  of  the  territory  of  which  they  seek  to  dispossess  me !" 
But  there  was  another  enemy,  whom  Francis  did  not  in- 
clude in  the  alliance  against  him.  This  was  the  Constable 
de  Bourbon,  whom  his  own  injustice,  leagued  with  the  im- 
patient ambition  of  the  other,  had  driven  into  hostility.  It 
was  only  while  upon  his  march  for  the  frontiers  that  the 
discovery  of  his  defection  was  made.  Bourbon  was  a  no- 
bleman of  great  talents,  a  soldier  of  approved  skill,  a  shrewd 
politician,  a  man  of  popular  attractions,  against  whose  loy- 
alty no  doubts  had  ever  been  whispered,  in  whose  faith  all 
parties  had  the  most  perfect  confidence.  It  does  not  concern 
us  here  to  enquire  what  were  the  particular  moving  causes 
which  led  to  the  sacrifice,  on  his  part,  of  his  high  character, 
and  the  unhappy  desertion  of  his  prince  and  country  in  the 
moment  of  their  gi'eatest  peril.  It  is  enough  for  us  to  show 
the  fact,  and  to  add,  that,  of  the  numerous  enemies  of  France, 
the  Constable  de  Bourbon  was,  probably,  the  most  dangerous. 
He  counselled  the  English  to  the  invasion  of  Normandy, 
treated  with  the  Spanish  emperor  to  a  like  purpose,  and 
effectually  disarmed  the  suspicions  of  his  sovereign,  until 
he  had  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  from  the  kingdom. 
Francis  remembered,  when  it  was  too  late,  the  value  of  the 
subject  whom  he  had  lost.  He  sent  him  a  special  messenger, 
with  a  pardon,  and  an  offer  of  the  restitution  of  his  proper- 
ty, the  deprivation  of  which,  under  circumstances  of  sup- 
posed injustice,  had  been  among  the  causes  of  Bourbon's 
anger.  But  the  answer  was  sternly  in  the  negative,  and  we 
next  find  him,  as  lieutenant-general,  at  the  head  of  the  em- 
peror's aimies  in  Italy. 

The  discovery  of  Bourbon's  treachery,  and  the  invasion 
of  his  kingdom  by  the  English  and  the  Germans,  prevented 
Francis  from  assuming  the  command  of  his  army  for  the 


380  BAYARD  TAKES  LODI. 

recovery  of  the  Milanese,  as  he  had  at  first  intended.  His 
unwise  paitiaUty,  and  the  pernicious  influence  of  the  Duch- 
ess d'Angouleme,  induced  him  to  confer  this  important 
command  on  Bonnivet,  who  was,  at  the  time  of  receiving 
the  title  of  generalissimo,  a  simple  volunteer  with  the  army. 
Bonnivet,  without  a  single  requisite  for  the  trust,  unless 
courage,  was  yet  presumptuous  enough  to  accept  it.  He 
marched  immediately  toward  Milan,  the  fortress  of  which 
was  defended  by  Prospero  Colonna.  The  forces  of  the  con- 
federates were  not  yet  assembled,  and  that  of  Colonna  was 
too  small  to  oppose  any  decided  obstacle  to  the  arms  of 
France.  He  himself  was  also  suffering  from  ill  health. 
But  his  arrangements  to  retard  their  advance,  and  harass 
their  progress,  were  judiciously  planned;  and,  while  he 
slowly  retreated  before  them  toward  Lodi,  he  despatched 
Antonio  de  Leyva  to  keep  the  city  of  Pavia.  Bonnivet 
was  not  the  soldier  to  cope  with  Colonna.  Had  he  pushed 
promptly  for  Milan,  while  the  latter  was  taking  his  course 
for  Lodi,  it  is  thought  that  the  place  must  have  fallen.  But 
his  caution  prevailed  over  his  fortune ;  and  when,  at  length, 
he  reached  Milan,  its  walls  were  repaired,  its  towers  man- 
ned by  Colonna  and  other  captains,  and  the  place  so  well 
victualled,  that  he  was  compelled  to  turn  the  siege  into  a 
blockade.  While  thus  employed.  Bayard  took  Lodi,  where 
he  had  nearly  captured  the  Duke  of  Mantua.  He  then 
went  to  the  relief  of  the  castle  of  Cremona — a  place  which, 
garrisoned  by  Lautrec  on  his  expulsion  from  Italy,  had 
still  continued  to  hold  out  for  the  French  during  a  period 
of  eighteen  months.  Having  succeeded  in  relieving  and 
strengthening  the  ganison,  our  *'  Good  Knight"  made  a 
demonstration  upon  the  city  ;  but  it  had  been  well  succored 
by  the  Duke  of  Urbino;  and  the  unfavorable  weather  com- 
pelled him  to  forego  his  desires. 

The  blockade  of  Milan  was  still  continued.  Famine  had 
begun  to  rage  in  the  city.  But  the  condition  of  the  block- 
ading forces  was  scarcely  better.     They  also  suffered  fiom 


PR03PER0    COLONNA    DIES.  381 

bad  food,  the  unwholesome  dampness  of  the  encampment, 
bad  weather,  and  want  of  forage.  Colonna  harassed  them 
with  continued  skirmishes,  and  frequently  cut  oif  their  sup- 
plies. The  French  general  proposed  a  truce.  His  object 
was  to  retire  unmolested  from  a  position  which  he  found 
equally  unpleasant  and  unprofitable.  This  the  Italian  com- 
mander declined,  knowing  quite  as  well  as  himself  the  dis- 
quieting circumstances  in  which  his  adversary  was  placed. 
This  determined  Bonnivet  to  withdraw  in  the  face  of  his 
enemies.  He  conveyed  his  artillery  safely  across  the  Ti- 
cino,  and  sent  a  part  of  his  army  into  winter-quartee-s  in 
Piedmont,  Provence,  and  Languedoc.  The  remainder 
were  lodged  in  Biagrassa  and  Rosat,  where  the  provisions 
were  plentiful.  Here  he  determined  to  remain  and  wait 
the  reinforcements  promised  him  from  France.  This 
interval  was  marked  by  the  death  of  Prospero  Colonna, 
who  was  literally  worn  out  in  the  harness.  He  died  at  the 
advanced  age  of  eighty.  Adrian  VI.,  another  uncom- 
promising enemy  of  the  French,  died  about  the  same  time. 
He  was  succeeded  by  the  Cardinal  de  Medici,  who  as- 
sumed the  name  of  Clement  VII.  This  sovereign  h-ad 
quite  as  much  at  heart  as  his  predecessor,  the  expulsion 
of  the  French  from  Italy.  But  he  made  as  little  display  of 
his  passion  as  he  could,  and,  soon  after  his  election,  ex- 
pressed the  most  ardent  desires  for  bringing  about  a  pacifi- 
cation between  France  and  the  emperor.  That,  for  the 
present,  however,  was  impossible.  The  strife  was  too 
bitter  to  be  appeased  by  words ; — the  prize  too  precious, 
in  the  sight  of  both  parties,  to  suffer  them  to  estimate  the 
blood  and  treasure  yet  to  be  expended  in  the  insane  strug- 
gle for  its  attainment ;  and  the  war  continued  with  as 
much  vigor  as  hate  and  a  selfish  ambition  could  supply, 
consistently  with  the  unavoidable  obstacles  of  climate,  the 
season,  and  occasional  deficiencies  in  the  several  sinews 
of  war. 

These  sinews,  on  the  part  of  France,  were  but  slowly 


382  BAYARD    AT    REBECdUE. 

furnished  to  her  captains  in  Italy.  The  teiTors  of  an 
Enghsh  and  Flemish  invasion  at  an  end,  Francis  once 
more  threw  himself  into  the  vortex  of  dissipation  and  lux- 
ury, from  which  his  escape  had  been  only  momentary. 
He  forgot  his  heroic  resolution  to  conquer  his  Milanese 
possessions  in  person ;  and  the  finances  which  should  have 
been  devoted  to  this  purpose  were  exhausted  among  his 
creatures  in  the  maddest  and  most  licentious  frivolities  of 
a  court.  Bonnivet  looked  in  vain  for  the  promised  suc- 
cor. With  but  few  resources  of  his  own,  for  a  command 
so  important  as  that  which  had  been  given  to  his  hands,  he 
was  made  momently  sensible  of  all  his  deficiencies  by  the 
increasing  activity  of  the  confederate  army.  Bourbon,  the 
traitor  to  his  country,  had  now  assumed  the  supreme 
command  ;  and,  instead  of  having  her  best  general  to  op- 
pose him,  France  sent  her  worst.  The  issue  may  be 
conjectured. 

It  was  while  Bonnivet  lay,  hoping  and  dreaming,  at  Bia- 
grassa,  that  he  conceived  the  idea  of  placing  Bayard  in 
quarters  at  the  little  village  of  Rebecque,  with  some  two 
hundred  gendarms,  and  a  small  body  of  infantry  under 
Captain  Lorges.  His  object  in  occupying  this  village, 
which  lay  close  to  Milan,  was  to  obtain  intelligence  of,  and 
to  arrest  supplies  on  their  way  to,  the  gariison.  Almost 
touching  the  camp  of  the  enemy,  without  wall,  or  fosse,  or 
barricade.  Bayard  at  once  saw  that  the  place  could  never 
for  a  moment  be  secure  against  surprise.  He  was  not  the 
man  to  murmur  at  any  commission,  however  perilous, 
which  was  assigned  him  ;  but  this  he  felt  to  be  one  in 
which  he  could  only  be  sacrificed,  hopelessly,  and  possibly 
under  circumstances  of  grievous  disgrace.  He  deemed  it 
his  duty,  therefore,  to  expostulate  with  his  commander. 
"  My  lord  admiral,"  said  he,  "  I  know  not  well  how  this 
matter  may  appear  in  your  eyes,  but  in  mine,  the  keeping 
of  this  village  of  Rebecque,  so  wholly  defenceless  as  the 
place  is  at  present,  would   be  utterly  impossible   unless 


BAYARD    DISSATISFIED.  383 

with  half  your  army.  Our  enemies  show  themselves  to  be 
vigilant  and  active,  and,  if  they  continue  in  this  activity,  it 
is  very  certain  that  I  shall  find  it  hard,  in  such  a  post  as 
Rebecque,  and  vvdth  such  a  force  as  that  which  you  assign 
me,  to  steer  clear  of  disgi'ace.  I  feel  all  this,  as  I  well 
know  that  if  our  enemies  kept  there  a  band  so  small  as 
mine,  I  should  be  sure,  in  some  dark  night,  to  take  them 
at  disadvantage.  Let  me  entreat  you  then,  my  lord,  to 
consider  well  the  deficiencies  and  diflSculties  of  this  post 
ere  you  send  me  thither." 

Bonnivet  was  not  sensible  of  the  force  of  these  argu- 
ments. He  was  disposed,  perhaps,  to  undervalue  and  to 
slight  them.  The  danger  from  the  enemy's  entei*prise  he 
did  not  conceive,  as  he  had  none  of  his  own.  He  bade 
our  chevalier  be  under  no  concern,  as  not  a  mouse  should 
stir  in  Milan  but  he  should  be  ready  to  support  him.  Bay- 
ard was  silenced  but  not  satisfied.  Bonnivet  promised  to 
send  him  additional  troops  in  a  few  days — a  promise  which 
he  forgot  the  next  moment ;  and  Bayard,  true  to  his  duty, 
though  greatly  troubled  in  spirit,  set  off  for  Rebecque  with 
the  force  assigned  him.  He  foresaw  the  fortune  which 
awaited  him,  and  sent  his  mules  and  unnecessary  baggage 
into  No  vara,  resolved  to  lose  as  little  as  he  could  by  the 
perverse  ignorance  of  his  superior. 


A 


t: 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Arrived  at  this  miserable  village  of  Rebecque,  Bayard, 
with  his  usual  vigilance,  proceeded  to  enquire  into  its  de- 
fences. He  found  the  place  more  accessible  to  an  enemy 
than  he  had  supposed,  and  less  capable  of  being  made 
secure  against  him.  He  consulted  with  his  officers  on  the 
subject,  and  found  no  means  of  providing  against  attack, 
except  by  closing  up  his  avenues  with  bamcades.  This 
was  done  ;  yet,  so  inadequate  did  this  sort  of  defence  ap- 
pear, that  entrance  might  still  be  eifected  by  an  enterprising 
and  courageous  enemy,  on  every  side.  Bayard  wrote 
instantly  to  Bonnivet,  describing  his  condition,  and  urging 
the  promised  reinforcements.  To  this  communication  there 
was  no  answer.  Another  and  another  was  sent,  and 
equally  neglected.  Bayard  felt  that  he  was  isolated — set 
apart  for  sacrifice,  and  that  his  only  hope  of  safety  must 
consist  in  his  own  vigilance  and  courage.     In  these  he  was 


LUPON    CAPTUKES    A    SENTINEL.  385 

not  likely  to  fail.  His  ban-icades  were  strengthened  by  all 
the  means  in  his  power,  and  his  posts  were  well  watched 
and  guarded.  But,  with  an  enemy  fifteen  thousand  strong, 
within  striking  distance,  commanded  by  a  young  and  en- 
terprising leader — for  such  was  the  Marquis  of  Pescara — 
it  was  not  possible  to  hope  for  immunity  in  such  a  position, 
and  with  a  force  so  feeble  as  that  under  our  chevalier,  let 
his  precautions  be  ever  so  excellent.  His  apprehensions 
were  soon  to  be  justified.  Pescara  soon  learned  from  his 
spies  that  Rebecque  was  held  by  a  very  small  command 
under  Bayard,  and  the  desire  for  conquest  was  heightened 
by  an  intense  anxiety  to  overthrow  and  capture  so  re- 
nowned an  opponent.  Bayard  was  to  be  taken,  dead  or 
alive.  It  was  an  additional  misfortune,  in  the  case  of  our 
knight,  that  he  was  quite  indisposed,  and  had  retired  early, 
on  the  very  night  which  Pescara  chose  for  his  enterprise. 
His  indisposition  was  the  result  of  anxiety  and  exposure. 
For  two  nights  he  had  not  slept,  having  kept  the  watch 
himself,  and,  until  his  barricades  were  closed,  his  troops, 
divided  into  two  equal  portions,  had  gone  the  rounds  on 
alternate  nights,  for  the  better  protection  of  the  place. 
Pescara  went  to  work  with  great  caution  and  dehberation. 
It  was  first  necessary  to  gain  some  certain  infoiination,  not 
only  as  to  the  force,  but  the  disposition  of  Bayard — ^how 
his  men  were  distributed,  and  where  he  himself  lay.  He 
was  not  the  warrior  to  be  approached  in  his  lurking-places, 
unless  all  the  clues  were  in  the  hands  of  those  who  sought 
him.  The  better  to  effect  his  object,  the  Spaniard  sent  a  fa- 
vorite soldier,  named  Lupon,  upon  this  service.  Lupon  was 
not  only  a  person  of  immense  physical  strength,  but  of  great 
agility  and  adroitness.  He  succeeded  in  stealing  upon 
one  of  the  French  sentinels,  and,  securing  his  weapons  be- 
fore he  could  use  them ;  then,  throwing  the  fellow  upon 
his  shoulders,  hurried  away  with  him  to  the  Spanish  camp. 
Fear  of  death,  astonishment  at  his  situation,  and  probably 
a  lurking  apprehension  that  he  was  borne   away  by  no 

Kk 


386  THE    SURPRISE. 

mortal  emissary,  kept  the  poor  wretch  silent.  He  was 
forced  to  speak  in  the  presence  of  Pescara,  and  it  was 
upon  his  deposition  that  the  latter  planned  his  attack.  It 
is  highly  probable  that  he  had  his  creatures  also  among 
the  villagers  of  Rebecque. 

Pescara  took  the  route  for  Rebecque,  at  midnight,  with 
an  overwhelming  force  of  six  or  seven  thousand  foot  and  four 
or  five  hundred  horse.  The  night  was  very  daik  and  the 
rain  falling.  Well  aware,  from  his  own  frequent  practice, 
that  such  a  night  was  the  very  best  for  a  sui-prise.  Bayard 
gave  particular  instmctions  to  his  people  to  watch  vigilant- 
ly, and  ordered  several  captains  out  on  the  guard,  keeping 
extra  duty.  They  left  his  presence,  but  soon  found  the 
night  too  uncomfortable,  and  most  of  them  returned  from 
the  watch,  leaving  this  duty  to  a  few  vnretched  archers,  who 
were  quite  as  well  satisfied  to  drowse  as  their  superiors. 
The  Spaniards,  meanwhile,  were  on  the  march.  The  bet- 
ter to  distinguish  one  another  from  their  foes,  in  the  dark, 
they  were  each  made  to  wear  a  shirt  over  his  armor.  When 
the  cavalry  had  approached  within  a  bow-shot  of  the  village, 
they  were  somewhat  surprised  at  encountering  no  sentinels. 
At  first  they  apprehended  that  their  scheme  was  blown,  and 
that  Bayard  had  returned  to  Biagrassa.  Such,  however, 
was  not  his  good  fortune.  They  continued  their  march, 
and  soon  happened  upon  some  of  the  few  archers  to  whom 
the  watch  had  been  left.  These,  taken  by  surprise,  fled 
without  a  blow,  giving  the  alarm  as  they  ran.  Their  ene- 
mies were  so  close  upon  their  skirts  that  they  were  slain  or 
captured  before  they  gained  the  barriers.  Bayard,  who, 
with  an  enemy  near  him,  always  slept  with  vantbrace  and 
tasses  on,  and  with  cuirass  and  helmet  by  his  side,  was  one 
of  the  first  to  catch  the  sound  of  the  approaching  clamor. 
He  leapt  up  instantly,  and,  bridling  the  steed  that  was 
always  kept  ready  saddled,  was  at  least  prepared,  with 
sword  drawn  and  in  full  harness,  to  encounter  the  danger. 
He   rushed  to   the  barriers,  where  he  was  immediately 


387 

joined  by  Captain  TiOrges  and  a  portion  of  their  infantry. 
Here,  then,  while  a  portion  of  the  Spaniards  were  seeking 
for  him  in  the  village,  supposing  they  should  find  him  in  his 
bed,  an  invalid,  we  find  him  fighting  fiercely  against  their 
companions.  Pescara  was  particularly  solicitous  for  the 
one  captive.  Could  they  have  taken  him,  the  rest  was  easy. 
They  sought  for  him  in  the  lodgings  which  were  pointed 
out  as  his,  then  scattered  themselves  abroad  in  search  of 
nim.  While  their  horse  were  thus  occupied,  the  drums  of 
their  infantry  were  heard  approaching.  At  the  sound,  which 
indicated  an  overwhelming  force,  Bayard  felt  that  now  or 
never  was  the  moment  for  escape.  Addressing  the  captain 
of  infantry,  he  said  to  him,  "  Lorges,  my  friend,  the  game 
will  soon  be  a  very  unequal  one.  We  shall  hardly  be  able 
to  keep  them  out,  and,  if  they  pass  this  barrier,  it  is  all  over 
with  us.  Do  you,  therefore,  draw  off  your  infantry  now, 
while  I  keep  up  the  struggle  with  my  gendarms.  Keep 
your  men  close,  and  march  straight  and  with  all  speed  to 
Biagrassa.  Heed  not  your  baggage ;  that  must  be  aban- 
doned or  destroyed.  There  is  no  help  for  it.  But  save  the 
lives  of  your  soldiers.  I  will  hold  out  with  my  gendarms 
to  the  last." 

The  order  was  obeyed.  The  spirited  conflict  which 
Bayard  maintained  at  the  barriers  covered  the  silent  re- 
treat of  the  infantiy.  The  Spaniards,  meanwhile,  in  their 
fruitless  search  after  their  particular  object,  had  lost  precious 
moments.  Seeking  the  person  of  Bayard  only,  their  cav- 
alry had  mostly  dismounted,  hurrying  in  small  bodies  from 
house  to  house.  By  this  time  he  had  succeeded  in  getting 
most  of  his  men  to  horse.  He  maintained  the  struggle  at 
the  barriers  until  he  thought  his  infantry  were  sufficiently  in 
the  advance,  then  sounding  the  retreat,  retired  slowly  from 
the  defence,  he  himself,  according  to  his  custom,  bringing 
up  the  rear.  The  movement  was  most  happily  executed, 
so  that  he  lost  but  ten  men  in  its  perfonnance.  Pescara 
had  not  so  successfully  canied  out  his  scheme  as  he  had 


388  HIS    aUARREL    WITH    BONNIVET. 

de^'ised  it.  While  the  search  was  still  continued  in  the 
houses  of  Reb6cque  for  our  hero,  he  was  already  far  upon 
the  road  to  Biagrassa. 

Here  he  brought  the  first  intelligence  of  the  disaster 
which  his  sagacity  had  foreseen.  Bitter  was  his  reproach 
to  Bonnivet,  and  sharp  was  the  passage  that  ensued  between 
them.  He  had  saved  his  men,  but  had  destroyed  his  bag- 
gage ;  and  this  was  a  necessity  which  was  not  reconciled 
to  the  fastidious  sense  of  chivalry  by  which  he  was  governed, 
or  by  the  conviction  which  all  acknowledged,  that  the  mas- 
terly defence  and  retreat  which  he  had  made,  under  such 
disadvantageous  circumstances,  was  an  increase  to  his 
already  large  reputation.  He  gave  Bonnivet  to  under- 
stand, at  the  close  of  the  interview,  that,  whenever  the 
king's  service  should  afford  him  leisure,  he  should  compel 
him  to  give  him  personal  satisfaction.  And,  but  for  a  su- 
perior providence  which  willed  it  otherwise,  he  would  most 
certainly  have  executed  his  purpose. 

But  events  were  at  hand,  of  a  character  to  absorb  and 
silence  all  personal  regi'ets  and  reproaches.  While  Bonni- 
vet was  still  vainly  looking  to  France  for  succors,  the  im- 
perial army  was  strengthened  by  a  force  of  six  thousand 
Germans,  sent  by  the  Venetians.  The  Duke  de  Bourbon 
was  now  enabled  to  assume  the  offensive.  Bonnivet  fell 
back  upon  Novara,  the  more  readily  to  effect  a  junction 
with  a  body  of  twelve  thousand  Swiss,  in  two  bodies,  one 
of  which,  he  had  intelligence,  was  coming  in  the  direction 
of  Sessia,  the  other,  of  Bergamo.  This  movement  prompt- 
ed a  con*esponding  one  on  the  part  of  Bourbon.  He  im- 
mediately threw  his  main  force  between  Sessia  and  Novara, 
to  oppose  one  of  these  bodies,  while  Giovanni  di  Medici 
crossed  the  Ticino  to  intercept  the  other.  These  movements 
were  successful.  The  French  were  thus  cut  off  from  their 
succors,  and  shut  up  between  two  divisions  of  the  imperial 
army.  Biagrassa,  the  only  strong  place  still  in  their  power, 
was  besieged  and  taken  by  Sforza,  and  the  plague,  break- 


BONNIVET    YIELDS    THE    COMMAND    TO    BAYARD.       389 

ing  out  in  the  town,  at  length  made  its  appearance  in 
the  army.  The  circle  was  contracting  about  the  general 
of  the  French,  the  neglect  of  whose  monarch,  and  whose 
own  inexperience,  had  devoted  to  irremediable  ruin.  His 
army  was  thinned  by  daily  desertions,  and  the  Swiss 
absolutely  refused  even  to  attempt  the  passage  of  the  Sessia. 
Bonnivet  determined  to  retire  into  France.  But  this 
decision  was  one  full  of  embaiTassments.  His  enemies 
were  not  likely  to  suffer  the  attempt  to  be  made  without 
some  interposition,  and  Bonnivet  prepared  for  it  as  well  as 
he  was  able.  The  retreat  began  at  daybreak.  The 
French  general,  with  becoming  manhood,  took  his  place  in 
the  rear  of  the  march,  along  with  the  gendarms,  to 
receive  the  attacks  of  the  Imperialists,  by  whom  all  his 
movements  were  closely  watched.  They  followed  the  retreat 
with  constant  assaults,  in  all  of  which  they  had  to  encounter 
the  skill  and  valor  of  Bayard.  It  would  be  doing  injustice 
to  withhold  from  Bonnivet  the  credit  of  fighting  bravely 
during  this  march  of  peril  and  exposure.  He  conducted 
himself  with  great  valor  and  ability  until  his  arm  was  broken 
by  a  musket-ball.  In  the  first  moment  of  pain  and  appre- 
hension he  sent  for  Bayard,  to  whom  he  gave  charge  of  the 
army,  thus  recognizing,  when  too  late,  the  ability  which, 
at  an  earlier  moment  would  have  achieved  conquest  instead 
of  suffering  defeat. 

"  My  Lord  of  Bayard"  said  he,  "  I  pray  and  conjure  you, 
by  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  French  name,  to  defend  the 
ensigns  and  artillery  which  I  give  into  your  keeping.  I  con- 
fide them  to  your  valor  and  wisdom.  You  alone  can  save 
the  army." 

There  was  a  reproach,  undoubtedly,  but  no  bitterness  in 
the  reply  which  Bayard  made  him :  "  I  would,  my  lord, 
that  you  had  done  me  this  honor  on  some  more  favorable 
occasion,  when  our  fortune  was  less  unfriendly ;  it  is 
now,  I  fear,  too  late.  Nevertheless,  happen  what  may, 
I  vow   and   promise    to   defend    these    ensigns    so,    that 

KK* 


390  BAYARD  MORTALLY  WOUNDED. 

while  I  live,  they  shall  never  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy." 

Bayard,  accepting  this  dangerous  commission,  at  such  a 
moment,  is  a  model  of  devotion  and  patriotism.  He  saw 
no  longer  in  the  man  before  him  the  spoiled  and  presump- 
tuous child  of  fortune,  unwisely  placed  in  the  station  which 
belonged  only  to  better  men.  It  was  no  longer  the  court- 
ier, Bonnivet,  who  addressed  him — it  was  the  same  man, 
forgetting  his  own  vanities  in  the  hour  of  danger,  and 
rising  into  a  just  appreciation  of  the  person  whom  he  ap- 
proached. 

"  My  life  is  my  country's,"  said  Bayard  on  leaving  Bon- 
nivet ;  "  my  soul  I  commend  to  God."  He  immediately 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  men-at-arms,  while  the 
Lord  of  Vendenesse  took  command  of  the  artillery.  In  a 
short  time  the  latter  was  killed  by  a  shot  from  an  arque- 
buse.  The  road  was  lined  on  both  sides  by  the  arquebu- 
siers  of  the  enemy.  From  these  the  missiles  of  lead  and 
stone  were  continually  projected  upon  the  retreating  French, 
while  the  Spanish  cavalry  pressed  upon  their  heels,  combated 
step  by  step  by  Bayard  and  his  gendarms.  He,  meanwhile, 
retired  slowly,  keeping  up  a  firm  front  and  close  array,  and 
sometimes  relieving  his  troop  by  a  successful  charge,  which 
drove  back  the  assailants  to  the  shelter  of  their  main  body. 
It  was  after  one  of  these  brilliant  charges  that  he  was  struck 
by  the  stone  bullet  of  an  arquehuse-a-croc^  which  smote  him 
across  the  loins,  and  completely  fractured  his  spine.  His 
first  exclamation  was,  ^^  Jesus,  Mon  D'leu  !  je  suis  mort  /" — 
( Oily  God  !  I  am  slain  /)  In  this  moment  of  mortal  agony, 
he  clutched  the  cruciform  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  lifting  it 
before  his  eyes,  repeated  a  verse  of  the  Miserere.  Feel- 
ing himself  about  to  swoon,  he  grasped  the  pummel  of  the 
saddle,  and  supported  himself  in  this  posture,  until  some 
of  his  friends  came  to  his  assistance,  and  helped  him  to  dis- 
mount. At  his  own  instance,  he  was  placed  with  his  back 
to  a  tree,  and  his  face  turned  in  the  path  of  the  approach- 


HIS    CONFESSION.  391 

ing  enemy.  His  friends  would  have  bome  him  away  from 
the  melee,  but  he  would  not  suffer  it. 

"  Let  me  die  in  peace.  It  is  all  over  with  me.  I  am 
mortally  hurt. — I  know  it,  and  I  would  not,  in  my  last  mo- 
ments, turn  my  back  upon  the  enemy  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life." 

Hans  Diesbach,  a  Swiss  captain,  offered  to  construct  a 
litter  of  pikes  on  which  he  might  be  borne  with  little  suf- 
fering, and  to  prevent  his  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Span- 
iards ;  but,  knowing  how  short  was  the  time  allowed  him, 
he  entreated  that  this  might  be  suffered  to  pass  in  compara- 
tive repose.  "  Leave  me  thus,"  he  said,  "  in  quiet,  that  I 
may  make  my  peace  with  God.  And  let  me  entreat  that 
you  will  all  depart,  lest  you  be  made  prisoners,  an  event 
which  would  greatly  increase  my  giief  For  me  you  can 
do  nothing  more.  Of  you,  my  Lord  of  Alegre,  I  entreat  but 
that  you  will  convey  my  farewell  to  the  king,  our  master, 
and  say  how  deeply  I  deplore  that  I  can  do  him  no  more 
service.  Convey  my  regards  to  my  companions  in  arms, 
and  take  my  adieu.  Farewell,  my  friends — and  now  leave 
me !" 

Bitter  were  the  tears  shed  by  the  noble  gentleman,  and 
the  gallant  men-at-arms  whom  he  had  so  often  led  to  victo- 
ry, particularly  as  they  were  compelled  to  leave  him,  in  his 
dying  moments,  to  the  doubtful  care  of  his  enemies.  They 
would  have  remained  with  him  and  shared  his  fate  or  cap- 
tivity, but  this  he  would  not  suffer;  and,  with  mournful 
hearts  and  tearful  eyes,  they  left  him  on  the  field  of  glory 
and  of  death.  One  of  his  attendants,  his  maitre  d'hotel,  a 
young  gentlemen  of  Dauphiny,  named  Jacques  Joffroi  de 
Milieu,  in  the  absence  of  a  priest,  received  his  confession 
before  he  went.  To  this  faithful  follower,  whose  bitter 
tears  provoked  his  own,  he  uttered  himself  thus  :  "  Cease 
thy  complaints,  my  friend ;  God  wills  that  I  shall  leave  the 
world.  It  was  by  his  favor  only  that  I  dwelt  in  it  so  long, 
and  enjoyed  so  many  more  honors  and  blessings  than  were 


392  THE    APPROACH    OF    THE    ENEMY. 

my  due.  Shall  I  mtirmur,  then,  that  he  calls  me  to  himself? 
There  is  but  one  thing  which  makes  me  loth  to  die.  It  is 
the  thought  of  evil  deeds  that  I  have  done — of  duties  I 
have  left  undone — of  time  lost  which  is  necessary  to  re- 
pentance. And  now  it  is  of  the  infinite  mercy  of  God 
that  I  must  implore  compassion.  I  am  not  without  a  hope 
that  he  will  hear  my  prayer — that  he  will  not  deal  with 
me  after  the  rigor  of  his  justice."  ....  Then,  after  a 
pause,  he  said,  "I  prithee,  friend  Jacques,  suffer  them 
not  to  remove  me  from  this  place.  When  I  am  stirred 
I  feel  the  utmost  torment  short  of  death ;  and  that  will 
seize  upon  me  right  soon." 

The  approach  of  the  Spaniards  dispersed  his  companions 
in  arms,  and  he  alone  remained  facing  his  enemies.  The 
tidings  of  his  mortal  injuries  had  already  reached  them,  and 
produced  a  profound  sensation  of  grief  among  their  ranks. 
The  foe  whom  they  most  feared,  honored  by  their  very 
fears,  and  whom  they  so  particularly  desired  to  capture  or 
to  slay,  now  that  he  could  do  them  hurt  no  longer,  remained 
before  their  eyes  only  as  the  impersonation  of  all  noble- 
ness, and  of  the  most  admirable  perfection  in  arms  and 
chivalry.  The  first  person  to  approach  the  dying  chevalier 
was  the  Marquis  of  Pescara.  "  Would  to  God,  most  gentle 
Lord  of  Bayard,"  said  the  Spanish  general,  ''that  by  shed- 
ding my  own  blood,  short  of  death,  or  by  abstinence  and 
prayer,  T  could  save  your  precious  life,  and  keep  you  as  my 
prisoner.  Then  should  you  see  how  highly  do  I  honor 
your  exalted  character  and  prowess.  Well  do  I  know  the 
justice  of  that  speech  of  my  countrymen,  when  I  heard 
them  praise  you  first — *  Muchos  Grisones,  y  pocos  Baijar- 
dos' — There  are  many  grey  horses,  but  few  Bayards; 
for  since  my  first  lessons  in  arms  have  I  never  seen 
or  heard  mention  of  any  knight  who  can  match  with 
you  in  all  admirable  quahties.  While  I  know  that  in 
your  death  the  emperor,  my  master,  is  reheved  fiom  one 
most    formidable    adversary,   yet,   when    I    consider    the 


TO    BOURBON.  393 

loss  which  knighthood  sustains  this  day,  I  would  freely 
give  the  half  that  I  am  worth  to  pluck  you  from  the 
clutches  of  death.  But  since  this  is  all  in  vain,  I  pray 
to  him  who  hath  made  us  all  in  his  own  image,  that 
he  will  gi'aciously  vouchsafe  to  receive  your  soul  unto  his 
mercy." 

The  Constable  de  Bourbon  next  made  his  appearance, 
and  was  profoundly  affected,  like  Pescara,  with  the  ap- 
proaching fate  of  the  hero.  Bending  over  his  prosti'ate 
person,  with  hands  clasped,  he  exclaimed,  with  a  feehng 
which  was  unquestionably  sincere, 

"  Alas  !  Captain  Bayard,  that  I  should  behold  thus  one 
whom  I  have  always  loved  and  honored  for  his  wisdom, 
his  virtue,  and  his  gi'eat  valor.  Believe  me,  fi'om  my  very 
soul,  I  weep  for  your  condition." 

At  these  words,  Bayard  raised  his  noble  gaze  upon  the 
face  of  the  unfaithful  prince  : 

**  Waste  not  your  sorrows  upon  me,  my  lord,  but  reserve 
them  for  yourself  I  die  as  I  have  lived,  an  honest  man,  and 
faithful  to  my  sovereign.  But  I  pity  you — you  whom  I  behold 
in  arms  against  your  prince,  your  country,  and  your  oath." 

The  constable  would  have  justified  himself  by  an  expo- 
sition of  the  provocations  which  had  forced  him  into  the 
arms  of  Spain.  He  felt  the  want  of  sympathies,  such  as 
those  which  a  pure,  honorable,  and  unselfish  spirit,  such 
as  that  of  Bayard,  could  bestow.  But  the  latter  was  too 
single-minded  and  too  clear-headed  to  be  deceived,  even 
in  the  moment  of  his  mortal  agony,  by  any  subtleties  of 
politics.  His  simple  rule  was  to  sacrifice  himself  always — 
his  interests,  his  rights,  his  vanity,  his  ambition,  to  his  du- 
ties— and  his  leply  to  the  constable  was  still  the  same.  He 
exhorted  him  to  seek  the  earliest  means  and  moment  to 
confess  his  errors  to  his  prince,  and  to  implore  his  forgive- 
ness;  closing  his  exhortations  with  a  prediction,  which  was 
fully  verified  in  the  sequel,  that,  neglecting  to  adopt  this 
course,  his  career  and  its  close  would  be  equally  without 


394  DEATH    OF    BAYARD. 

honor.  Bourbon  turned  away,  stricken  to  the  heart  by  the 
dying  words  of  a  man  whose  stern  reproaches  were  but 
too  keenly  seconded  by  the  voice  of  conscience,  which 
still  struggled  eagerly  in  his  own  bosom. 

The  Marquis  of  Pescara  did  not  neglect  the  dying  mo- 
ments of  our  hero.  Though  remarkably  apathetic  on  most 
occasions^  he  did  not  now  seek  to  disguise  his  sympathy. 
He  had  a  pavilion  raised  over  the  spot  where  Bayard  lay, 
evincing  the  most  tender  consideration  of  the  pain  he  suffer- 
ed, and  not  venturing  to  remove  him.  His  own  surgeons 
attended  the  dying  man,  and  he  himself  sat  beside  him  till 
the  moment  when  his  eyes  were  closed.  A  Spanish  priest 
was  brought,  to  whom  he  devoutly  renewed  the  confession 
which  he  had  tendered  to  his  squire.  His  prayer  on  this 
occasion  has  been  preserved.  "  Oh,  God !  my  Creator 
and  Redeemer,  who  hast  declared  thyself  ever  ready  to 
receive  into  thy  mercy  and  to  forgive  those  who  shall  re- 
turn to  thee  with  a  contrite  spirit,  I  entreat  thee,  through 
the  death  and  passion  of  thy  Son,  to  have  mercy  upon  me 
— to  pardon  my  innumerable  offences,  which  I  repent  with 
all  my  heart.  Alas  !  my  Father  and  Redeemer,  I  have 
grievously  offended  thee  my  whole  life  long.  I  have  been 
one  of  the  worst  of  sinners,  and  I  look  to  thy  grace  and 
bounty  only  for  safety  from  desei"ved  punishment.  Well 
I  know  that  an  hundred  years  spent  in  abstinence  and 
prayer  upon  the  desert  would  not  avail  to  secure  me  an 
entrance  to  thy  kingdom,  were  it  not  for  thy  infinite  grace 
and  goodness.  Be  pleased,  then,  to  regard  me  with  that 
clemency  which  no  virtues  in  the  creature  might  command. 
Pass  over  the  many  faults  of  which  I  have  been  guilty, 
and  show  me,  instead  of  thy  rigorous  justice,  thy  abundant 
and  saving  mercy." 

In  the  utterance  of  this  prayer  he  died.  The  attentions 
and  kindly  consideration  of  his  enemies  did  not  cease  with 
his  death.  His  body  was  embalmed,  and  conveyed,  by  the 
guard  which  Pescara  had  assigned  him,  to  a  neighboring 


HIS    BURIAL    AND    MONUMENT.  395 

church,  where  a  solemn  service  was  perfoiTned  over  him 
during  two  days.  The  body  was  then  delivered  to  his 
friends  and  domestics,  who  were  provided  with  passports 
for  France,  and  who  conveyed  it  into  Dauphiny.  As  the 
escort  which  bore  it  approached  Grenoble,  the  public  feel- 
ing displayed  itself  in  the  movements  of  all  classes  and 
orders.  The  gidef  of  the  province  was  universal.  The 
public  authorities,  the  noblesse,  and  all  the  people  of  the 
city,  went  forth  to  receive  it,  and  formed  a  mourning  caval- 
cade, by  which  it  v/as  borne  to  the  church  of  the  cathedral, 
where  it  was  received  with  the  honors  usually  paid  to  the 
remains  of  a  sovereign.  The  body  was  then  deposited  in 
a  convent  of  Minims,  which  his  uncle  had  founded,  and 
not  in  the  church  of  Grignion,  where  he  had  expressed  a 
wish  to  be  intended.  It  was  deposited  under  a  gi'eat  stone, 
at  the  foot  of  the  chancel.  To  the  right,  above  a  door  by 
which  you  enter  the  convent,  is  his  bust  in  white  marble, 
adorned  with  the  collar  of  his  order.  On  another  piece  of 
white  marble,  placed  beneath  the  bust,  is  inscribed  a  Latin 
epitaph,  which  contains  a  summaiy  of  his  exploits,  and  of 
the  circumstances  of  his  death.  This  monument  was 
raised  by  a  private  gentleman  of  Dauphiny — one  no  way 
related  to  him — who,  through  a  just  admiration  of  the 
fame  of  the  hero,  executed,  at  his  own  expense,  what 
Henry  IV.  thought  to  do,  and  the  city  of  Grenoble  vainly 
projected.  The  name  of  this  gentleman,  Scipion  de 
Pollond,  lord  of  St.  Agnin,  deserved  to  have  been  put  upon 
the  edge  of  the  tablet  which  he  raised. 

The  Chevalier  Bayard  died  on  the  30th  of  April,  1524. 
He  was  but  forty-eight  years  when  he  was  slain,  in  the 
full  vigor  of  his  manhood,  and  with  his  intellect,  naturally 
strong  and  clear,  informed  by  a  various  experience,  and 
perfectly  matured,  without  being  impaired  by  age.  What 
might  not  have  been  anticipated  from  his  farther  career  ] 
Francis,  when  a  captive,  after  the  battle  of  Pavia,  in 
which   he  was   made   a   prisoner  by  his    subtle    enemy, 


396  HIS    CHARACTER. 

Charles  V.,  thought  of  Bayard  only  as  his  counsellor. 
That  battle  had  never  been  lost,  had  Bayard  been  in  the 
place  of  D'Alencon.  When  Francis,  in  his  bonds,  saw  no 
alternative  before  him,  but  a  humiliating  treaty  or  pro- 
longed imprisonment,  he  exclaimed  to  the  Lord  of  Mont- 
chener,  "  If  the  Chevalier  Bayard  had  but  sursdved — had 
he  been  only  near  me — 1  should  never  have  sunk  to  this. 
He  w^as  v^orth  a  hundred  captains.  He  could  vv^in  the 
confidence  of  friends,  and  inspired  his  enemies  v^^ith  fear. 
Ah  !  Bayard,  had  you  but  lived,  I  never  had  been  here  !" 

The  eulogium  was  just.  The  reader  has  not  forgotten 
the  moral  portrait  which  we  sought  to  draw  at  the  opening 
of  this  history.  We  feel  sure,  making  due  allowances  for 
what  belongs  to  the  times  rather  than  to  the  individual, 
that  nothing  of  our  picture  was  overdrawn  or  exaggerated. 
His  merits,  as  a  man  and  as  a  soldier,  were  equally  great 
and  remarkable.  His  delicacy  of  soul,  his  genuine  piety, 
charity,  and  munificence — his  utter  disinterestedness,  and 
ardent  attachment  to  his  country — leave  us  nothing  to  re- 
gret in  the  perfect  fullness  and  just  balance  of  his  moral 
qualities.  Foibles  and  faults  may  be  charged  to  his  ac- 
count, but  it  would  be  difficult  to  reproach  him  with  any 
vice.  At  all  events,  none  of  these  seem  to  have  taken 
the  form  of  habits.  Intellectually,  he  was  equal  to  any  of 
his  associates,  judging  them,  when  in  contact  with  himself, 
and  in  the  performance  of  similar  duties.  It  is  true  that  he 
was  never  entrusted  with  the  functions  of  a  general  officer, 
where  the  command  extended  to  the  operations  of  an 
army ;  but  that  he  was  unequal  to  their  performance,  will 
scarcely  be  believed  by  those  who  shall  remark  carefully 
the  promptness,  the  shrewdness,  and  the  decision  of  his 
counsels,  when  his  opinion  was  demanded  by  his  associates 
or  his  superiors.  That  he  never  received  the  baton  of  a 
marshal  of  France,  is  due  rather  to  the  fact,  that  he  lacked 
the  arts  of  the  favorite — while  his  native  modesty  held  him 
back  from  solicitation,  and  taught  him  to  express  himself 


HIS    CHARACTER.  397 

always  moderately  in  reference  to  his  own  claims.  He 
was  not  the  man  to  boast.  Of  his  performances  and  re- 
sources he  always  spoke  most  humbly ;  and  yet,  in  the 
moment  of  doubt,  whose  counsels  were  more  clear,  more 
deep,  more  comprehensive,  whether  the  interest  was  the 
skirmish  of  a  squad,  the  siege  of  a  citadel,  or  the  plan  of 
battle  for  a  gi'eat  army  1  In  all  the  tnists  confided  to  his 
hands,  we  never  once  find  him  faltering — never  once  a 
laggard — ^never  once  forgetful  of  his  vigilance.  He  be- 
trayed, at  all  times,  the  rare  union  of  an  enthusiastic 
courage  and  intrepidity  with  a  cool  and  deliberate  wisdom, 
such  as  might  well  become  the  general-in-chief  of  a  great 
army,  upon  whose  movements  hang  the  fortunes  of  empire. 

Bayard  never  permitted  himself  to  indulge  in  swearing, 
a  habit  which  was  common  during  his  time,  and  in  all 
times  too  much  practised  among  soldiers.  He  never 
permitted  swearing  in  his  presence  where  it  was  possible 
to  restrain  or  punish  it.  In  rebuking  this  single  practice, 
he  seemed  to  forget  his  usual  sweetness  of  temper,  and 
that  gentle  demeanor  which  he  sought  to  show  to  all. 
Hearing  two  pages,  on  one  occasion,  employ  the  name  of 
the  Deity  wdth  irreverence,  he  turned  upon  them  wdth  a 
reprimand  so  sharp  and  fierce,  as  to  provoke  a  brother 
officer  to  wonder  that  he  should  deal  so  severely  with  so 
small  an  offence. 

"So  small  an  offence  !"  exclaimed  Bayard.  "You  can- 
not mean  it.  That  is  no  small  offence  which  is  the  vice  of 
the  age !" 

Fierce  to  his  enemies,  he  was  always  mild  and  affable  to 
his  friends.  With  a  profound  veneration  for  the  truly 
great,  and  a  becoming  deference  for  all  in  authority,  he 
fav^Tied  upon  none,  flattered  none,  and  was  too  great  a 
lover  of  truth  to  possess  any  of  the  expertness  of  the 
courtier.  Of  noble  family  himself,  and  of  noble  trainini^ 
according  to  the  fashion  of  his  time,  he  had  no  disdain  of 
his  inferiors.     The  poorest  soldier  of  his  command  was 


398  Hlri    SAYINGS. 

never  dismounted,  and  needing  assistance,  tliat  he  did  not 
come  to  his  relief.  He  possessed  in  perfection  that  ex- 
quisite art  which  enables  one  to  bestow  a  favor  without 
making  the  object  of  his  bounty  sensible  of  an  obligation. 
Sometimes,  he  would  exchange  a  fine  horse  for  a  very  poor 
one,  to  reward  a  squire  who  had  pleased  him;  and  not 
unfi'equently  he  left  a  splendid  garment  of  velvet,  damask, 
or  satin,  in  lieu  of  a  threadbare  cloak.  In  his  life,  of  an 
hundred  thousand  crowns,  which  he  received  for  the  ran- 
som of  prisoners,  he  kept  scarcely  any  for  himself.  Yet 
most  of  his  gifts  were  made  in  secret.  His  alms  were 
worthy  of  princes  and  rich  noblemen.  He  gave  maniage- 
portions  to  an  hundred  oi-phan  girls,  of  gentle  and  infeiior 
birth.  Never  sparing  of  his  money,  when  any  good  might 
be  done  with  it,  he  was  wont  to  say,  "  Why  should  we 
value  money,  when  the  gorget  wastes  what  the  gauntlet 
vnns — employing  an  ancient  military  proverb,  "  Ce  que  le 
gauntelet  amasse,  le  gorgerin  le  depenseT 

His  piety  was  as  unostentatious  as  it  was  fervent.  Al- 
ways, before  quitting  his  chamber,  he  recommended  him- 
self to  God  in  prayer;  but  he  preferred  always  that  his 
adoration  should  be  made  in  secret.  He  loved  and  feared 
his  Creator  in  all  things — never  blasphemed  or  took  the 
name  of  his  Maker  in  vain,  and  still,  in  all  perils  and  neces- 
sities, sought  counsel  of  him  first.  His  conviction  that  from 
him  and  his  infinite  grace  all  manner  of  good  proceeded, 
was  an  habitual  presence  to  his  mind  and  thought.  His 
love  for  his  neighbor  was  manifested  by  a  thousand  charac- 
teristics. Of  wealth  he  took  but  little  account,  being  at  his 
death  no  wealthier  than  he  was  at  his  birth.  When  others 
dwelt  complacently  on  the  treasures  of  the  rich  and  pow- 
erful, he  turned  a  deaf  ear ;  but  he  was  never  weary  of 
talking  about  the  rirtuous  and  the  brave.  Riches,  accord- 
ing to  his  saying,  did  not  often  ennoble  the  affections. 
When,  as  was  sometimes  the  case,  his  companions  reproach- 
ed him  for  throwing  away  his  bounty  on  the  people  of  cap- 


HIS    PRAISE    OF    HIS    MASTERS.  399 

tured  cities  from  whom  it  would  be  wrested  by  merce- 
naries, his  answer  was,  "  Never  mind — I  do  my  duty.  Be- 
sides, this  poor  man  may  hide  his  money  till  the  war  is 
over,  and  he  will  then  be  able  to  use  it.  He  wdll  then 
call  upon  the  Lord  for  me."  Justice  was  his  great  ideal. 
He  was  never  known  to  uphold,  even  his  best  friend, 
when  equity  demanded  his  sacrifice.  He  was  wont  to 
say  that  the  empire  without  justice  in  its  government, 
was  to  be  compared  only  to  a  forest  thronged  v^^th  rob- 
bers. 

Bayard  always  delighted  to  hear  mentioned  the  names  of 
those  who  had  first  taught  him  the  ait  of  war.  He  honored 
his  teachers  always  with  becoming  reverence,  and  always 
spoke  eagerly  in  their  praise.  He  had  learned  the  pro- 
fession in  a  good  school ;  and,  though  he  had  surpassed,  he 
had  just  reason  to  exalt  his  teachers.  He  was  wont  to 
say  that  there  was  no  one  person  in  whom  you  are  oftener 
deceived  than  in  him  who  professes  aims.  A  man  will 
play  the  hero  in  a  chamber,  who,  before  the  foe,  will  be 
timid  as  a  maiden.  He  spoke  with  scorn  of  all  those  who 
abandoned  their  ensigns ;  and  the  men-at-arms  that  showed 
themselves  eager  for  plunder  were  sure  to  provoke  his 
aversion.  His  dislike  to  the  arquebusiers  amounted  to  an 
antipathy  which  made  him  more  reluctant  to  show  them 
mercy  than  any  other  of  his  foes.  He  is  thought  by  some 
to  have  had  a  presentiment  of  the  implement  by  which  he 
was  to  fall.  But  an  accomplished  knight,  relying  upon 
skill,  strength,  and  individual  valor,  might  well  dislike  an 
engine  which  rendered  these  of  little  account.  Like  Ages- 
ilaus  the  Spartan,  who,  on  seeing  a  machine  for  casting 
darts,  called  it  "  the  grave  of  valor,"  so  "  it  was  a  great 
heart-sore  to  Bayard,"  according  to  one  of  the  old  chron- 
iclei*s,  **  that  a  valiant  man  should  be  slain  by  a  paltry,  piti- 
ful ragamuffin."  His  characteristics  as  a  soldier  are  thus 
summed  up  by  the  "  Loyal  Servant :"  "  He  had  the  three 
excellences  of  the  accomplished  knight — the  attack  of  the 


400  EULOGY    OF    HIS    COMRADES. 

greyhound,  the  wild  boar's  defbnce,  and  the  speed,  in  pur- 
suit, of  the  wolf." 

In  person.  Bayard  was  tall,  straight  and  slender.  His 
countenance  was  mild  and  gracious.  His  eyes  were 
black,  his  nose  inclining  to  aquiline,  and  his  complexion 
fair.  His  painters  have  shown  him  to  us  with  a  marvelous 
profusion  of  beard  ;  but  we  are  told  that,  for  the  more 
easy  use  of  his  helmet,  he  wore  it  closely  shaven.  In  the 
rude  portrait  which  accompanies  the  biography  of  Sym- 
phorien  Champier,  a  scar  is  placed  conspicuously  beneath 
his  left  eye ;  but  this  is,  probably,  a  fancy  sketch,  as  little 
like  him  in  feature,  as  it  is  rude  in  execution.  Bayard, 
though,  ^ar  excellence,  the  "Good  Knight"  ^^  sans  peur  et 
sens  reproche^^  was  yet  "  no  saint,"  as  we  remember.  He 
left  a  natural  daughter,  named  Jeanne  TeiTail,  whose 
mother  was  of  a  noble  family  in  the  Milanese.  Bayard 
had  promised  her  marriage,  and,  doubtless,  but  for  his 
premature  death,  would  have  fulfilled  his  pledge.  He 
spared  no  expense  in  the  education  of  the  child,  who  was 
said  to  inherit  the  virtues  of  her  father.  She  was  received 
into  the  family  of  his  brothers  as  their  niece,  and  afterward 
married  with  Francois  de  Bocsozel,  lord  of  Chastelhaut. 
The  unhappy  poet,  Chastelar,  who  perished  in  consequence 
of  his  insane  passion  for  Mary  Stuart,  queen  of  Scotland, 
was  a  lineal  descendant  of  Bayard. 

Our  memoir  may  fitly  conclude  with  the  mournful  apos- 
trophe of  his  men-at-arms,  as  they  left  their  dying  chief 
upon  the  field  of  battle,  waiting  for  the  enemy.  "  Ah, 
treacherous  fiend !"  they  exclaimed,  apostrophizing  Death 
— "  wherein  had  he,  this  good  and  noble  knight,  proffered 
thee  offence.  Thou  hast  not  been  content  to  avenge  thy- 
self on  him  only,  but  on  us.  Thou  hast  stricken  him  that 
thou  may'st  have  us  also  at  thy  mercy.  Under  what  shep- 
herd shall  we  now  go  forth  a-fleld  %  Where  is  the  guide 
whom  God  will  provide  for  us,  who  could  so  well  protect 
us  from  the  foe  %     With  him  we  had  no  fear.     We  felt. 


EULOGY    OP    HIS    COMRADES.  401 

each  of  us,  strong  as  any  fortress.  What  captain  will  ran- 
som us  from  the  keep  of  the  enemy — who  lift  us  from  the 
earth  when  we  are  cast  down — who  sustain  us,  like  him, 
in  the  day  of  our  tribulation.  Cruel  destroyer !  this  has 
ever  been  thy  wont !  The  more  excellent  the  worth,  the 
more  dost  thou  delight  in  its  overthrow.  Yet,  though  thou 
hast  deprived  him  of  life,  and  we  of  him,  as  our  shepherd, 
know  from  us,  oh.  Death !  that  thou  can'st  not  play  thy 
part  so  cunningly  as  to  take  from  him  the  glory  he  hath 
won.  Thy  stroke  which  hath  taken  him  from  this  life 
hath  but  rendered  his  memory  safe  through  all  succeeding 
ages.  He  shall  still  survive  to  the  satisfaction  and  delight 
of  the  valiant  and  true  men  that  shall  come  hereafter  !" 


THE    END. 


^. 


J'^ 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 
LOAN  DEPT 

__:^!f!::!i^^^J;^aresubiea  to  immediate  recall. 


|17Dec'57PT 


JAN  14  1958 


"rec^dTd^ 


WA/  25  1959 


REG.  CIR.OEC  29  77 


LD  21A-50W-8 '57 
(C8481sl0)476B 


.  General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


\ 


h 


M295959 


'-*.**..-.^ 


"w^ssssoH?^:. 


1^^ 


„-s<;* 


\tn.SJ>^ 


